Heart of a Badger
by Elwa
Summary: The Dursleys adopted Harry. They still don't like him. See what a difference a name makes.
1. To Be a Dursley

Title: Heart of a Badger

Author: Elwa

Summery: What's in a name? Harry Potter becomes Harry Dursley when his relatives adopt him. And

Harry Dursley is no Gryffindor. Nor is he Slytherin. See what a difference a name can make.

Genre: Alternate Universe (and out of character-ness but hopefully only in the sense that AU, by its very nature, causes people to act differently than in cannon. If the Harry of the book had grown up in similar circumstances, he might act similarly to this Harry. And of course the other characters are going to react differently to this Harry. So it's OOC but hopefully in a circumstantial way).

Warnings: Child abuse, but to a lesser extent than in the book and only one instance of physical violence. Slight OOC-ness (see my note on AU). Possibly violence later in the story (this is following book one, so expect the same amount of violence to occur)

Rating: PG (to be on the safe side)

Chapter 1

To Be a Dursley

Harry Dursley meant to be a perfectly ordinary boy. After all, his only family wished it of him, and he would do anything to please them. Unfortunately, the other Dursleys did not feel remotely the same towards him. They liked his cooking, they liked how well he cleaned their house and tended their lawn, and his aunt was especially fond of how well he brought up the garden. But they did not like him, not in the slightest, and as often as not he was told to go to his cupboard and stay out of the way.

Harry could not say that he liked the Dursleys, exactly. He was fairly certain that it was not nice to pamper one child until he could hardly move for himself while shutting the second child up in a cupboard. He was also fairly certain that being given all the chores while his cousin waddled about making more messes was not really fair. But on the other hand, Harry was good at what he did. He enjoyed working in the garden and he enjoyed cooking. He didn't even really mind the cleaning, unless it was something especially difficult like cleaning out the gutters or pushing the big heavy mower. And sometimes his aunt would work with him, or show him how to do something, and she would almost smile at him. And all three of the Dursleys were always very appreciative of his cooking. Even if they never precisely said thank you, Harry could see that they meant it.

But whether the Dursleys liked Harry or whether he liked them, it didn't really matter. They were a family, and so they were all stuck with each other. Dudley might bully Harry sometimes, but he never let anyone else do the same. The last time someone had tried that at school, Dudley had shoved the kid down the stairs. No one messed with Dudley's cousin except him, because messing with his cousin was messing with a Dursley, and Dudley wouldn't stand for that. Unfortunately, not messing with him seemed to extend to friendship, because no one at school ever seemed to want to talk to Harry. They were all too afraid of Dudley to try it.

His aunt hardly ever said a kind word to him, but she didn't really scold him often either. In fact, she generally did her best to ignore him, unless company was around. Then Harry would either be sitting quietly in his cupboard, or he would be sitting next to his aunt to serve the tea. Those tea times were his favourite, because his aunt didn't ignore him then. She in fact acted quite proud of how well he behaved himself while her friends lamented about the deplorable manners of their own children. Dudley was never invited to these tea parties.

Harry's uncle was the hardest to get along with. Of the three Dursleys, he was the only one who seemed to actively dislike him. More often than not, he was the one who ordered Harry to sit in his cupboard or to do the harder, most dangerous chores. In fact, Harry had heard his aunt scolding his uncle once after he had ordered Harry up to the roof to fix the shingles. She was also the one who drove Harry to the hospital when he broke his arm cleaning out the gutters. Harry didn't know if she scolded his uncle that time, because the pain killers sent him to sleep rather quickly. But his uncle never hurt Harry on purpose, except the occasional half-hearted swat when he thought him in the way. And though Harry didn't like having anyone hate him so obviously, he could at least comfort himself with the fact that they weren't related by blood and so his uncle was only sort of family. Because Harry was quite certain that, like or dislike, one was meant to love their family. And Harry didn't think he could love Vernon Dursley. At best, he could avoid wishing him harm.

So Harry did his best to please his aunt and to get along with his cousin and secretly wished that he could please his uncle. The trouble was, Harry wasn't Dursley enough for any of them. Because no matter how hard he tried to be perfectly normal in every way, strange things still happened. There was, for instance, the trouble with his hair. It was thick and messy and refused to lay neat and straight no matter how his aunt combed it. One day, after he came back from the barber looking just as untidy as ever, she had nearly had a fit over his impossible hair. His uncle's solution was to grab a pair of scissors and chop it all off so short it was practically a buzz cut. All of it but for the bangs to hide the horrible scar on his forehead. He looked utterly ridiculous.

"You can't go to school like that!" his cousin had exclaimed in disgust at the sight, "No Dursley is wandering outside with a haircut like that!"

"At least it is laying straight for once," his aunt had said, despite the fact that Vernon's cut was nothing near even all over, and Harry was sent to the kitchen to make dinner. He sat up half the night, running his fingers nervously over his sheared hair. He didn't want to go to school looking like that any more than Dudley wanted him to. The next morning, it had all grown back.

For one of the only times in his memory, his aunt slapped him and called him a 'horrid little freak'. His uncle turned an interesting shade of purple and ordered him out of the house before he had even begun to make breakfast. Harry ran out and down the street where he burst into tears. He was certain, in that moment, that the Dursleys would never love him. He was seven at the time.

Of course, the Dursleys got over it. By the time he and his cousin got home from school, his aunt was waiting with their snack and acted just as though nothing had happened. His cousin didn't seem to care one way or the other except to tell Harry not to upset mum again, because she had burnt the bacon that morning. And Harry continued his never ending quest to please his family, and to never again be a 'horrid little freak'. But he never did seem to be able to achieve either end.

One of the worst incidents of strangeness happened on Dudley's eleventh birthday. He and his friend Piers were taken to the zoo, and Harry as well because he was a Dursley, even if he wasn't a much like one. Besides, his usual sitter couldn't take him that day and his uncle didn't think he could be trusted alone in the house. So he got to wander around behind the others and enjoy the day as well, at least until they reached the reptile house. He was sympathizing with a beautiful boa constrictor stuck in its little glass prison when the snake had risen up to look back at him. And when Harry cried, quite without meaning to, "You are beautiful," he had heard it reply, very distinctly, "Thank you." And then his cousin pushed him out of the way, knocking him to the ground, and the real strangeness had happened. The glass vanished. The serpent came out, winding passed Dudley and Piers and, with a final hiss of 'thanksss' it slithered away. After that, it was months before any of his family would look at him without that horrible look of fright and disgust. That look was worse than anything, even being made to stay in his cupboard except for chores and school. But at last the look faded once more and life returned to normal.

This went on until one day, during the summer just before his eleventh birthday, Harry received a very unexpected letter. It came in the morning post, addressed to Harry Dursley. It even had his cupboard in the address, which he found odd. He didn't think one was required to include the recipient's bedroom in the address. And besides, no one except the Dursleys were supposed to know he slept there. He carried the strange letter directly into the kitchen with the rest of the mail.

"Aunt Petunia," he said, "There's a letter addressed to me." She snatched it out of his hands and then gave a shriek when she read the address. Harry ducked away, startled. He had thought it strange but he didn't think it warranted that kind of reaction. He was suddenly afraid that he had done something freakish again without meaning to and he began to wish he hadn't shown it to her after all.

"What is it?" he asked, after watching her read it. Judging from the look on her face, the letter was something dreadful. But she ignored him and went to find Vernon, who was still upstairs. Harry and Dudley followed but were shut out of the room. They couldn't hear what his aunt said, but they could soon hear his uncle.

"We swore!" he shouted, "We swore when we took him into our family that we wouldn't stand for it! We'd squash it out of him and make him a proper Dursley! He isn't going!" His bellowing went on for a good deal longer, but neither boy could figure out what he was so upset about. Only that it had something to do with Harry's parents and freaks. Later, both aunt and uncle refused to answer any questions, not even when Dudley begged to know. This was strange in itself as Dudley was rarely denied anything. Harry couldn't help but feel that this was good for him, except that it meant that Harry didn't learn anything either. And a little shouting and dark looks were probably all that would have come from it if that had been the only letter. But more came.

His aunt didn't slap him and call him a freak this time. She didn't make him do any chores that week either. Instead, she told him to stay in his cupboard and not make any noise. She seemed afraid and that made Harry anxious. Was someone looking for him? After nearly two dozen letters had come, all addressed to Harry in his cupboard under the stairs, his aunt insisted he be moved to Dudley's second bedroom. Surprisingly his uncle didn't complain about this, though his face did keep twitching oddly. Dudley complained long and loud but to no avail. The letters kept coming, this time addressed to his bedroom.

What began as strange quickly became horrifying. No matter what the Dursleys did, they could not seem to escape the letters. Not even when all four fled the house on a sudden holiday did they manage to evade the mysterious stalker. Harry was beginning to grow frightened.

"Perhaps if I just read one of the letters, they'll stop sending them," he suggested, "Or we could go to the police." But his uncle only grunted and his aunt pinched her lips together. Harry was forbidden to even think about reading one of the letters.

Finally, his uncle led them all to a rickety old shack that they had to take a row boat to reach. It was cold and wet and dismal and smelled of rot and mildew. There was nothing to eat, either, except a bag of crisps each and a banana. No matter how great Harry's culinary skills were, there was simply no way to turn that into a filling meal. Not unless one could do magic.

To make matters worse, the next day would be Harry's birthday. Not that the Dursleys ever did much for it, nothing at all like with Dudley, but at least his aunt would usually let him out of most of his chores and she would usually bake a cake for their dessert that evening. There were no candles or singing, but Harry knew it was meant for him. And he was usually taken to get new clothes on his birthday and at Christmas as none of Dudley's old things fit him and even his uncle agreed that no Dursley was going to walk about in public without decent clothes. It seemed that this time his birthday would pass without even this half-hearted notice. Harry could only hope that whoever was sending the letters would at last give up. Then they could all go home and their lives could go back to normal. It was not to be.

At exactly midnight, during a great clap of thunder, the door to the shack crashed in. A giant was standing outside.


	2. To Be a Wizard

Chapter 2

Being a Wizard

Harry screamed. Dudley awoke with a start, rolled over, and fell on top of Harry. Harry stopped screaming, but only because it was impossible to breathe with Dudley on top of him, let alone make any sound. The giant stepped into the room looking too big to be real, his hair long and wild and wearing a great big coat with lots of pockets. His first act upon entering was to pick up the door and put it back against the door frame. Then he looked about the room, his eyes finally resting upon where Dudley still lay cowering on the floor.

"Harry Potter?" he asked. Dudley managed to shake his head, his eyes wide. Then Vernon and Petunia ran into the room, Harry's uncle baring a rifle trained upon the intruder.

"You won't be taking him!" Vernon screamed manically, "He's a Dursley; he has a name to uphold. Now get out, before I shoot you for breaking and entering!" But the giant, far from being intimidated, only continued to look about for the missing Harry. Petunia, meanwhile, had run to her precious son and had drawn her up into her arms, finally freeing the trapped Harry to take enormous gulps of fresh air. Finally, the giant spotted him.

"There you are!" he cried, "Harry Potter. The last time I saw you, you were a little baby no bigger than my hand."

"He must have been an awfully large baby," Dudley remarked, staring out from behind his mother at the man's great size.

"Excuse me," Harry said, getting to his feet himself, "But I think you have the wrong person. I'm Harry Dursley."

"Not a chance," the man insisted, looking down on the boy with a fond expression. Somehow it made him look less fierce, and Harry began to feel that he might not be so frightening after all. "Not with those eyes staring up at me," the man continued, "Or that hair and those glasses. You are James and Lilly's son, no doubt about it. Now, as to being a Dursley, I suppose that couldn't be helped."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked, stepping towards the stranger excitedly despite his aunts shriek to come back. His uncle swung his rifle about in wild agitation.

"You won't be telling him!" he shouted, his face going purple with passion, "I won't have it!"

"Oh dry up, Dursley, you great prune!" the giant cried in annoyance, and he grabbed the rifle right out of Vernon's hands, twisted it up into a knot, and handed it back again without any more trouble than if it were made out of rubber. From behind his mother, Dudley clapped, impressed. Then he ducked back again as the giant's gaze turned towards him. Now that the Dursleys were being more or less silent the man turned his attention back towards Harry.

"Of course I knew Lilly and James," he said to him, "Of course, I don't think there's a wizard alive who don't know their names, but I knew them personally." Harry frowned in confusion.

"Did you say wizard?" Harry asked. His uncle made an odd sort of squeaking noise, as though he wanted to start shouting again but didn't quite dare. Suddenly, Harry's aunt swept forward, pulling Harry back behind her to stand next to Dudley.

"He won't be a wizard," she insisted, "He's a Dursley, not a Potter, and I won't have you telling him these things! Harry, you stay away from this man!" The giant snorted, whether from amusement or annoyance it was hard to say.

"A Muggle like you, keep James and Lilly's son out of Hogwarts?" he asked, "Why, his name's been down since the day he was born. But Dumbledore mentioned you might make trouble. I've got the legal papers here, and they say he's to go." And he dug into one of his great pockets and dug out a handful of papers. Among them, Harry saw an envelope just like the ones his letters had come in. After the giant handed the papers to his aunt, he held the letter out towards Harry.

"Here it is then," he said to him, "Your Hogwarts letter." Harry hesitated, glancing towards his aunt, but she said nothing. Her lips were pressed in a firm, thin line as she read the papers the giant had handed her. His uncle also made no noise but only kept turning his ruined rifle about in his hands. "Well go on then, take it," the giant said encouragingly. Harry took a step forward, and then another, and when no one shouted for him to stop he took up his letter at last. It was indeed addressed to him, to his very location. Unable to resist it any longer, he tore it open and looked at the strange green script.

_Mr. Dursley_, he read, _You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment. As you are from a Muggle background, a wizard staff member will be meeting with you before start of term to help the transition. Term begins September first, and we await your owl no later than August 30._ Harry looked at the second page which contained a list of items along with a list of prohibited items. He didn't recognize any of it.

"Is this real?" he asked the giant, and then felt rather silly asking it. Why would a giant come bursting into a shack in the middle of a storm if there wasn't something of magic about him? And why would the Dursleys be trying so hard to get away from the mysterious letters otherwise? The giant stared back at Harry.

"Is it for real?" he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Magic," Harry explained, "People are really wizards or witches?" He glanced back towards his aunt, blushing slightly. His aunt and uncle had always treated any words that had something to do with magic as though they were ugly curse words. Dudley, of course, had reacted by getting a hold of every fantastical movie he could find and hiding them under his bed. Now he peered out from behind his mother and looked as though he might come out, if he wasn't so scared.

"Of course magic is real!" the giant exclaimed, "What did you think your parents did, wave sticks about for the fun of it?" Harry only stared at him, feeling as confused as ever. The giant saw his perplexed expression and sighed. "Don't you even know what you are? You're a wizard Harry."

"But I can't be!" Harry answered. He wanted to add that wizards weren't real, but he no longer was sure of that. He couldn't really remember his parents; he was a baby when they died after all. But all the same, something about the world that this giant offered, this world of his parents, called to him. Harry loved the Dursleys, but he did not like them, and perhaps this is why he went on listening to the man and ignoring his aunt's every attempt to draw him away. He listened to the giant, wanting to be convinced.

"Haven't you ever done anything, things you can't explain but just happen?" he asked. Harry thought about the strange happenings and about being a horrid little freak. He shuddered, then nodded his head.

"But isn't that bad?" he asked, "To do the strange things?"

"Of course not!" the man cried, and he sent a dark look towards Harry's aunt and uncle, the obvious source of that opinion, "Wonderful things can be done by magic! And once you're trained up a bit, you won't do so much by accident." Harry's eyes widened at the thought of actually doing magic. And if he could control it, perhaps his family wouldn't mind it so much. "Oh!" the man cried suddenly, "I almost forgot! Happy birthday, Harry! I'm afraid I might have sat on it at some point, but I'm sure it'll taste good all the same." And so saying he pulled from a pocket a squashed cardboard box. Within it, Harry found a small birthday cake. He looked up at the giant who was now beaming down on him and suddenly had to blink away tears. He had his birthday cake, after all it seemed.

"Excuse me," he said at last, "Thank you, but, can you tell me your name?" For it was really starting to bother him that the giant seemed to know all about him, but he didn't know the man at all.

"Oh, right," the giant answered, "Let me introduce myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And that reminds me, I better be sending Dumbledore an owl saying you got your letter and to expect you on the first." And from yet another pocket, he drew out a very bedraggled looking owl. While Hagrid wrote his note, Harry picked the owl up and stroked its feathers, smiling gently at it. Then Hagrid tied the note to its leg and tossed it out the door.

"It will be all right, won't it?" Harry asked, frowning. It was very stormy and windy outside.

"It'll be fine," Hagrid insisted, "Owls are trained to handle most anything, otherwise, what'd be the good of them sending letters?" And then he proceeded to make himself at him, using his umbrella to light a fire in the grate. As he proceeded to grill up some sausages, Dudley overcame his fear at last and crept out from behind his mother. Vernon and Petunia stared in horror as both boys sat next to the fire. Dudley started to demand that Harry share his cake, much to Hagrid's annoyance.

"You would make a fine pig," he muttered towards him, swinging his umbrella about ominously. Dudley squeaked and said nothing more about the cake. Harry thought that comment rather rude, but then, Dudley certainly wasn't the definition of politeness. After that came a much more filling dinner than the first had been, at least for Harry and Dudley as Vernon and Petunia had refused to touch the sausages. They had also forbidden Dudley from touching them, which the boy ignored. Harry felt confusingly relieved and hurt that he wasn't also forbidden. In the end, he did share some of his cake with Dudley, but not nearly as much of it as his cousin would have demanded if Hagrid weren't still watching. Then they all went back to sleep.

Harry watched his aunt and uncle lead Dudley into the other room for the night, leaving him alone with the giant. Just as with the sausages, this was a mixed blessing. It was much warmer with Hagrid, not only because he kept the fire going but also because he loaned Harry his great coat for a blanket. But Harry wished more than anything that his family wanted to protect him as much as they did Dudley. It was even worse than the stares of disgust after the vanishing glass incident. Harry curled up underneath the great big coat and tried to pretend the warmth and the stranger's kindness made up for the coldness in his heart.

The next morning, he woke up to an owl trying to climb into a pocket. The Dursleys did not appear all the while he and Hagrid took care of the owl, ate breakfast, and otherwise got ready to leave. Harry could scarcely believe that he was leaving at all. He felt strange. Excited, confused, terrified, yet strangely relieved. Whatever he was feeling, he knew he would feel better if only his family would come out one last time to see him leave. But the door remained firmly shut and at last Hagrid insisted it was time to go. Reluctantly, Harry followed him outside into the cold morning air. He knew he wasn't a very good Dursley but he could at least hope to be a good wizard. And perhaps Hagrid could tell him more about his parents. With these more hopeful thoughts in mind, he silently bid farewell to his family and stepped into the boat.


	3. Scars and Robes

Chapter 3

It was on the train to London that Harry got Hagrid to talk more about his parents. The giant was appauled that Harry didn't have so much as a single picture of them, and horrified to learn Harry thought they had died in a car accident.

"Uncle Vernon said they were drunk, but I wasn't sure I believed him," Harry said, "Aunt Petunia only said that it was icy and my father was driving. I was in the car too, that's how I got this scar." And he pulled back his bangs to show it.

"A car accident, kill Lilly and James Potter?" Hagrid cried, "I should ruddy think not!"

"But then, how did they die?" Harry asked, "They are dead, aren't they?"

"Aye, but Harry, I don't think I should be the one telling you this," Hagrid answered, "I didn't think, I mean, I knew you weren't getting your letters and Dumbledore said there might be a bit of trouble but to not know anything, about anything..."

"I do know some things," Harry answered, though in truth ever since Hagrids arrival he wondered if anything he thought he knew was true. Hagrid sighed.

"It's better that you know, before we get there," he said at last, "Everyone else does. There isn't a wizard alive that doesn't know the story, except maybe Muggle born and they learn fast enough. Your parents were murdered, by a very evil man."

"Murdered?" Harry asked, his eyes wide and then, because it bothered him to understand so little he asked, "Muggle?"

"Non-magical folk, like your relatives," Hagrid answered distractedly before continuing on with the story. "You see, Harry, not all wizards are good. And this one wizard, he went just about as bad as you can get. His name was...well, we call him You Know Who."

"But I don't know who," Harry answered, "Could you at least write it down?"

"Nah, can't spell it," the giant answered, "All right, his name was Voldemort." And the giant shuddered, his head turning a bit as though to glance behind them but no one was sitting nearby. The way he acted made Harry wonder if he wanted to know more about this magical world, after all.

"He's still out there?" he asked, his eyes wide, "And he's the one who killed my mum and dad?" He didn't know how to feel about that. It was hard to picture his parents at all, or care about them except in the vague sense of knowing his life would be better if they were still there. Certainly they had to be better than the Dursleys. His aunt and uncle always doted on Dudley, no matter how he behaved, and if Harry was with his real, true parents, surely they'd be at least a little fond of him. The thought had always made him ache for something missing, something he didn't really even understand, but the pain was reserved more for an idea than real missing people. And the thought of their murderer wandering about filled him with dread. Even in the bright light of day, he felt chills going down his spine. But while all of this was going through his head, Hagrid was already speaking again.

"That's just it," he said in a low voice, "No one know what became of him. You see, Harry, after he killed your mum and dad, he went on and tried to kill you. Only, it didn't work. You survived, and he disapeared. That's how you got your scar, and that's why you are so famous to all of us. You're the Boy Who Lived."

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry said, "Just living isn't a reason to be famous."

"It isn't just living, though that's a miricle in itself," the giant explained, "It's that You Know Who vanished, some say destroyed, because of you."

"I killed someone?" Harry demanded, his eyes wide with horror, "When I was a baby?"

"Not like that," Hagrid answered, "Most people say he did it to himself. He cast the spell at you and it rebounded somehow, and hit him instead. No one knows. But since that day, You Know Who has never returned. Something about you stopped him."

"So I did kill him," Harry answered, swallowing hard. His aunt was right after all. He was a horrid little freak, who used his strangeness to kill someone when he was just one year old."

"Some people think he died," Hagrid continued, "Codswallop, I say. He wasn't human enough to die. I think something about you weakened him and he's in hiding." They rode on in silence for the rest of the trip, each reflecting on their own thoughts. Harry was glad that the evil wizard wasn't around any more, but he didn't like to think that it was because of him. He didn't want to hurt people with his strange powers, suppose he accidently killed someone else, someone who wasn't evil at all? Growing back hair was harmless, but freeing snakes could be dangerous. And what if he got really angry and someone and made the person vanish, just like he had the glass? But Hagrid said that he could learn how to control it, and if he controlled it he could make sure nothing bad happened. He followed Hagrid out of the train station with new determination. He had to know more about this magic.

Hagrid gained many stares as they travelled; he was obviously more used to magical transporation systems and he had no concept of money at all. But when they finally stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron, it was Harry who began to feel out of place. He was finally going to meet more wizards, at least according to what Hagrid said. He wondered if they were all as big and grizzly as Hagrid, then told himself he was being silly. After all, his own parents were wizards, and if Harry looked just like his dad then he couldn't have been anything like the giant. For one thing, Harry was the shortest in his class by a good deal, though he sometimes thought this might be partly due to living in a cupboard. Hagrid led him through the door.

The pub was unremarkable, except that the people inside wore robes. If one imagined they were overly large coats then it didn't even seem very strange. It was not, however, the sort of place that the Dursleys would ever go, or ever allow Dudley, and by extension Harry, to enter. He couldn't help but stare. And, very quickly, he caught glimpses of magic. A newspaper lay on a table with moving pictures, a mop went sliding across the floor all by itself, and, over in the corner, a man stirred his tea without touching the spoon. Harry wished he had a mop that cleaned by itself, but he doubted his aunt would allow it in the house. Suddenly, Harry realized he was staring and hurried to catch up with Hagrid as the man talked to the bartender. He heard his own named mentioned, and then someone caught sight of his scar.

"Harry Potter!" a witch in a purple robe exclaimed.

The room went silent. Then everyone was moving at once, crowding around the boy, trying to shake his hand and introduce themselves. Harry tried to hide behind Hagrid. Everyone was pressing in on all sides, all of them towering over him, and he began to feel as though he couldn't breathe.

"Enough!" the bartender roared, and everyone froze. "Let the boy have his space!" he exclaimed. After that, everyone in the room formed a line, with a strange stuttering man in a turban at the front, holding out a trembling hand. Hagrid looked hesitent about the rest of the patrons, but he did introduce the first man as Professor Quirrell. Thankfuly, after that introduction the bartender told everyone to sit back down or sit outside and Hagrid was able to lead Harry out in peace.

"Sorry about that," the man said, "Like I said, you're famous here."

"They won't be like that everywhere, will they?" Harry asked, looking anxiously back through the door where already faces were peering out at them.

"Maybe if we got you a hat," Hagrid suggested. Harry wasn't convinced, but he was soon distracted as he watched the giant tap one of the bricks with his umbrella and watched as the wall opened up onto the strangest street he had ever seen.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said, and they walked through leaving the curious faces pressed to the window behind them.

The alley was exciting and magical and Harry finally felt the real thrill of entering a magical world. No one paid them any mind there, everyone hurrying about on their own errands, which was good because there were a good deal more people there than in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry wanted to look everywhere at once, but Hagrid dragged him first towards an official looking building with marble floors. Once he realized it was a bank, it suddenly occurred to Harry to wonder about money. He was fairly certain his uncle wouldn't want to pay for him to learn magic. That was when Hagrid revealed that Harry had money of his own, a small fortune as it turned out. Harry was so speechless from his sudden riches that he didn't even ask about the small mysterious item Hagrid was picking up for Dumbledore.

Then Hagrid dropped him off in the clothing shop and Harry stood nervously to get fitted for his first wizard robes. Besides his school robes, he had decided he had better get casual robes as well but he had no idea what to look for. His aunt had always picked everything out for him and he never had any say, even when he thought her choices repulsive. A woman came out with the measuring tape that took measurements all by itself and, after standing there stiffly for a full minute while she walked around him in circles, he finally managed to ask her what wizards normally wore.

"Muggleborn, are we dear?" she asked, "I have just the thing for you." And she summoned a magazine filled with pictures of boys. All of the pictures moved, showing off their robes as they walked and skipped about or flew on a broom. It took a few minutes for Harry to get over the moving pictures and take a proper look at what they were wearing. While he looked through it, another boy entered the shop. It seemed it was also his first year at Hogwarts and he very obviously knew all about wizard fashion. He appeared utterly bored as he told the woman what he needed. As she dissapeared into the back of the shop he spared a glance for Harry.

"First year at Hogwarts?" he asked, after looking over the black robe the woman had made him put on before the other boy had shown up, "A little small, aren't you?"

"I'm eleven," Harry answered, and stared inently towards the catalog.

"Well, you are small for eleven," he answered, not seeming to care one way or the other, "I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way."

"Harry Dursley," Harry murmered, refusing to look towards him.

"Another Harry, is it?" the Malfoy asked, "Your parents must be fans. But at least they must be wizards, of course. I really don't think they should let the other type in, do you? Imagine knowing nothing of magic before you get your letter. Where are your parents, anyway?"

"Dead," Harry answered, still not looking up.

"Oh sorry," Malfoy said, not sounding sorry at all, "My parents are getting my books and things. We'll be getting my wand next, and then I think I'll drag them over to look at brooms. Horrible, isn't it, that first years can't have brooms. Maybe I'll just sneak it in somehow."

Harry ignored him.

"Do you know what house you're going to be in?" the Malfoy asked, not seeming to care about Harry's stubborn silence. Harry said nothing again, this time because he had no idea what he was talking about. "Well, no one really knows, of course, but all my family's been in Slytherin for ages. Though Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, but imagine being in Hufflepuff. I think I'd rather die, don't you?" Harry looked harder than ever at the catalog.

"Well, better Hufflepuff than Gryffindor," the boy continued. Thankfully at that moment they were interupted by Hagrid tapping at the window and holding up two ice cream cones as the reason he couldn't come in. Malfoy stared at him, wrinkling his nose in distaste. But before he could comment, the woman returned at last from the backroom and Harry quickly requested three casual robes, whatever she thought best. The Malfoy boy sniffed disdainfuly at that though he couldn't seem to resist saying that green would suit him best. The woman seemed inclined to agree, going on about his eyes, and at last the order was done up. Harry added a hat at the last second, grabbing it off the rack, and then he ran out to Hagrid while the boy started to make imperious demands about improvements to the school uniform.

"Nice hat," Hagrid said, nodding approvingly. It was large and green and floppy and clashed horribly with his current outfit, but at least he hoped no one would see the scar.


	4. To Be Alone

Chapter 4

They walked while they finished their ice cream and Harry was at last able to look about in awe at all the shops lining the alley. He instinctively wandered towards where numerous children were standing, nose pressed against a window. He half expected some sort of new game system or another toy of that sort, but when he arrived he only saw a broom. Harry thought they seemed awfully keen on cleaning, until he started listening to some of their talk. Then he remembered the pictures he had seen in the catalogue, of boys flying through the air on a broom, and he was hard pressed to keep his mouth from hanging open. Now he understood the Malfoy boy's disappointment that first years couldn't have brooms. Sternly, he reminded himself that he, too, was a first year and allowed Hagrid to lead him onwards.

"Hagrid," he said as they walked, "A boy was talking about different houses…" And this led to an animated explanation of the four Hogwarts houses, though the giant wouldn't tell him how students were sorted. Though he did say 'I think that's a smart hat you have, there' a lot. Harry began to wonder if Hagrid wanted his hat. He might have offered it if he weren't so worried about being recognized without it. Harry also noticed that Hagrid and Malfoy had two very different ideas about what was the best Hogwart's house. According to Hagrid, Gryffindor seemed to be one of the best and Slytherin was a house filled with dark, evil wizards. Ravenclaw seemed fairly neutral and Hufflepuff was considered, by both, at least better than the worst house but otherwise undesirable. Harry didn't know what to think.

Once the ice cream and discussions were done, they continued into stores, starting with the most magnificent bookstore Harry had ever seen. Along with his school books, he found a couple that the bookstore owner recommended for Muggleborns wanting to know more about the wizarding culture and a couple of storybooks that Harry though looked interesting. The shopkeeper even shrank his purchases for him, with a pre-set word that would un-shrink them even if the speaker hadn't an ounce of magic about them. By the time they left the store, a befuddled Hagrid was half convinced that Harry would be sorted into Ravenclaw.

Next they got all the usual writing supplies, a trip that passed quickly despite all Harry's questions about how to use a quill and why didn't wizards use pens? Lately, Harry felt that all he had done all day was ask question after question, especially once he realized no one was going to growl at him or call him nosy or lock him away for asking. The next stop was the apothecary. Harry studied the different ingredients with great interest and then the cauldrons, where he wanted to know what difference it made what the cauldron was made out of. Hagrid murmured something about the difference being expense and was ready for them to leave when the shopkeeper, in scandalized tones, came over to explain that it made a great deal of difference what material a cauldron was made out of, and that difference had nothing whatsoever to do with expense. In fact, he spent nearly half an hour explaining about how different ingredients would react to gold versus pewter until Harry was quite sorry he had asked.

Finally, it was time to get his wand. Though he knew next to nothing about magic thanks to his phobic relatives, he had, during their walk, come to understand that the little sticks people carried were what they used to control their magic. Now Harry was really looking forward to receiving his own. He followed the giant into the shop.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he found. The place reminded him of a shoe store with its shelves lined in boxes and the way the owner leaped about with his tape measure and his odd questions. He whipped out wand after wand, declaring something about wood and magical cores, but none of them seemed to be working for Harry. Harry began to worry that in the end he wouldn't find anything, and that they would decide he wasn't a wizard after all and send him back to the Dursleys. And then he picked up the wand being thrust at him, and everything changed.

He felt something like warmth tingling through his fingers and lights came sparking up out of the wand. He knew, even before the strange man started dancing about in delight, that he had found his wand. Then the man was speaking again, almost too himself. And Harry discovered that the wand was a twin to the wand used by Voldemort.

They left the wand shop in silence. Harry paused to look at the list of school items and discovered they had already gotten everything. He supposed he would be returning to the Dursleys now, until school started. He wondered if they were still out on that rock in the middle of nowhere or if they had returned home once Harry left. He wondered if they would be very angry that he had gone with the giant. He wondered if the garden had gotten very overgrown while he'd been gone and what state the rest of the house was in. He hoped his aunt had at least thought to water the plants every once in a while. But it seemed his trip to Diagon Alley wasn't quite finished.

"I still need to get you your birthday present," Hagrid decided, and though Harry protested that he didn't need anything, really, he soon found himself being led into an owl shop. As Hagrid explained, owls were great because they could send letters and such. Harry, after looking about nervously, suggested a tiny owl no bigger than his fist which he was sure wouldn't cost too much or be too big a hassle for his relatives. He left the store with Hagrid's choice: a huge snowy white owl. Harry felt overwhelmed and slightly afraid of what his aunt and uncle would say. Then they were going back to the train to make their way back to Harry's relatives. It seemed that they had gone back to the house, after all.

"Here's your train ticket," Hagrid said as they rode together, "Just be sure to get there on time; you don't want to miss it." Harry nodded and put the ticket away in his bag with the rest of his school things. The owl was the only wizard type item left out. She earned many stares, but for once Harry didn't mind as he stroked her through the bars occasionally. The owl, for her part, seemed at ease within her cage, only nipping at Harry's finger's occasionally and never hard enough to draw blood. Already they both seemed quite fond of each other.

Then, at last, Harry was standing next to Hagrid in front of number four, Privet Drive. He was trying to work up the courage to go in. Hagrid seemed reluctant to leave him to his aunt and uncle's tender care.

"All right, then, Harry," he said at last, "Want me to go in with you?"

"That's all right," Harry answered, knowing his relatives would prefer to not see anyone like Hagrid hanging about their house. Considering the owl he was carrying, his relatives would probably prefer not to see Harry either. The thought made a sudden lump grow in his throat. Surly the Dursleys had missed him in all the time he'd been gone, at least a little. Surely they understood wanting to know about his parents. He would explain that he had to learn magic so that it wouldn't happen accidently. They would like that, wouldn't they? Then Hagrid gave Harry one final hug and stern instructions to not miss his train, and then left before he burst out into loud bawling. Harry was left alone with a bag of magical items and a bird on his front doorstep.

As luck would have it, no one answered the door when he knocked. It seemed that the Dursleys were out for the evening, but the spare key was still hidden in the same place and Harry let himself in. He walked calmly towards his cupboard before he remembered that he had been moved upstairs to Dudley's second bedroom. He hesitated. Was he still meant to be in the bedroom or would they want him to stay in his cupboard? But then his owl hooted and Harry realized that with his bag of school supplies and an owl, he would hardly fit under the stairs. Besides, he didn't think it would be healthy for his new pet. That decided, he went up the stairs and into the bedroom, finally letting the owl free.

"But stay quiet," Harry told it, "And stay in this room except at night. Aunt Petunia doesn't like messes and they would both hate people seeing an owl about the house." He wasn't sure if the owl understood him, but she had such an intelligent expression that he couldn't help but talk to her. Then, after making sure her perch was set up properly and she had food and water and the instant waste vanish trey set up, he went downstairs again.

The house was neat and tidy and people had obviously been in it since he left because an attempt had been made at dusting and sweeping and there were dirty dishes in the sink. Harry looked about, sighed, and went to the back yard first to make sure the garden hadn't been too horribly neglected. It had been watered, but not weeded, and the hedges needed to be pruned. Harry set to work. By the time he heard the car in the driveway, he had the garden and the front lawn sorted out and had begun on the kitchen. He looked up from the sink with a great deal of trepidation when the Dursleys came trouping in.

"You're back," Dudley said, upon entering the kitchen in search of a snack.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Mum and Dad have been ballistic over you," his cousin said, and then he proceeded to raid the refrigerator and ignore Harry. His aunt and uncle entered next, no doubt attracted by their voices.

"You, boy!" his uncle cried, "What are you doing here! Did they kick you out of that freak school already?"

"It hasn't started yet," Harry explained, "I have to catch a train on the first of September." His uncle gave a snort of disgust.

"Well, see that you mind your chores," his aunt ordered. And after Harry assured her that he would, the Dursleys proceeded to ignore him and otherwise pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened.

There was a bit of trouble when they discovered the owl. Harry tried to explain that Hedwig, as he called her, was extremely well behaved and that they wouldn't even know she was there. Dudley decided he wanted an owl too and was furious when his parents refused. Harry was afraid that they would decide Hedwig had to go as well. He didn't know if she had bonded well enough with him to come back if his aunt and uncle sent her away. But in the end, after Harry pointed out he had had her for two days in the house before they even realized she was there, they decided to let it go.

"Just don't let her go flying around our house," his uncle ordered, and his aunt added something about cleaning up after her. As Harry was already doing these things, he only agreed politely and was at last left alone. In truth, his aunt and uncle didn't seem to know how to deal with him. He had only been shut up in the cupboard once as punishment, and that was only for a couple of hours. He had been told to stay in his room twice for a bit longer. But usually they simply ignored him. They seemed afraid of punishing him too harshly.

Dudley acted refreshingly normal by shoving Harry out of his way whenever he crossed his path and occasionally wanting to play games that inevitably ended in Harry being hurt after they got too rough. But usually his cousin was out with his own friends and Harry was left to himself to clean and look after the garden. When he was told to go to his room and be invisible, he looked at his school books. They were all very interesting, but he hated always being locked away from his family. He liked it better when they had been berating him every chance they got; at least then he felt like he had some chance of winning their affection. It seemed they had finally given up on him ever being anything more than a freak. He even heard his uncle asking if there wasn't some way to un-adopt him so he wouldn't have their name. His aunt assured him they couldn't possibly. It would make people talk. Like it or not, Harry was still family.

Then things returned to relative normal as September approached. His aunt and uncle were preoccupied with their son and his upcoming school year at Smeltings. They were much too excited over Dudley to concern themselves with Harry's shortcomings. Harry, for his part, hid more and more to avoid Dudley taking out his own nerves on Harry with his Smelting stick. And then, at last, the first of September arrived. On that day, Harry would be boarding the train for Hogwarts.


	5. The Train

Chapter 5

Harry awoke that day an hour earlier than usual. Considering that Harry was generally an early riser, this was very early indeed. He lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to sort out his feelings. On the one hand, he was very excited to be going to his new school. He would be learning real magic and following in the footsteps of his parents. On the other hand, he had never gone away to school before. As much as the Dursleys disliked him, Harry was sure that he would miss them. And who else would look after the garden?

He got up then and crept downstairs to the backyard. The sun wasn't up yet but the sky was gray and the birds were beginning to stir. He stood in the morning dew and just looked about at the garden.

"Be good, while I'm away," he whispered, "I'll see you again this summer." The wind whispered past, almost as though in response to his words. He went back inside.

No one in the house stirred as he crept back up to his room. His brand new chest was still sitting at the foot of his bed, ready for when he finally left. It was a gift from his aunt and uncle, though they had a very pinched and unfriendly about them when his uncle hauled it up to his room.

"Won't have no Dursley going off with battered old luggage," his uncle had mumbled, "Not even a freak of a Dursley."

"Mind you look after it," his aunt had directed, "And you tell those freaks how well we look after you." Harry promised that he would and thanked them for the gift. Now it was filled with his clothes and books and wizarding supplies. It took a bit of work getting everything to fit and even then Harry ended up putting some of it in his book bag to carry. He hoped that he would soon learn that shrinking spell the book store person had done; he was tempted to try and copy it himself but Hagrid had mentioned he wasn't supposed to do magic outside of school. So he had to make do with sitting on his chest to make it close and carrying an extra heavy book bag.

With still another hour to go before the Dursleys would begin to stir, Harry made his own bed and made sure everything in his room was tidy and that he hadn't forgotten to pack anything. This didn't take very long considering that without his possessions the room was practically empty anyway. Nor was there any dust lying about to be swept up or any other final chore to complete. The only real concern Harry had, in fact, was looking after Hedwig and making sure the owl was ready for the trip.

"We are going to go on a train in a few hours," Harry told his bird, "After that I think I can let you fly around more. I think they like owls where we're going." Hedwig stared back at him and ruffled her feathers but otherwise didn't respond. Harry took this as a sign of approval anyway. Then he took out his train ticked yet again, assuring himself that he wasn't forgetting it and that it was, indeed, still in his pocket. Finally, exasperated with waiting, he went down and began breakfast.

It was just as well he did, because his aunt also rose early that day and was soon screeching for her husband and son to get up. It turned out that Dudley had an early doctor's appointment that day, a mandatory check up before he was able to go to his school. Harry was being dropped off at the train station on the way. The Dursleys gave the impression that if they hadn't been going to London anyway, they never would have bothered with him.

All the same, it was at least four hours after Harry got up that his aunt was bustling everyone into the car. The worst was when Harry brought down Hedwig enclosed in her cage and his uncle yelled that there was no way that bird was going in his nice car. But luckily his aunt managed to persuade him. Harry would have felt better about it if she hadn't done it by saying the sooner the owl is in the car the sooner the freak would be gone. His uncle looked extremely cheerful after that and even helped Harry buckle the cage into the middle seat in the back. Finally his luggage, his owl, and his family were all in the car and they were pulling away from Privet Drive.

"It's not fair," Dudley whispered to Harry once his parents were suitably distracted by the radio, "You getting to learn magic. You just remember you're a Dursley. I won't be there to beat up anyone who messes with you." This was surprisingly friendly for Dudley so Harry held back from pointing out that Dudley also beat up anyone who wanted to be friends with Harry. Besides, he had a sudden lump in his throat at the thought of leaving his home. They may not have been nice to him, or pleasant, but they were family. It was even worse knowing that they probably wouldn't miss him at all.

Then they arrived at the train station and his uncle was kind enough, at his aunts directing, to help Harry get his trunk and birdcage situated.

"Just you behave," he said to Harry afterwards, "And don't start thinking your better than us. And don't tell them any lies about us, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, trying not to blink back tears. His uncle got back into the car. Harry gave them a half-hearted wave as they sped away again. None of the Dursleys looked back.

"All right, Hedwig, let's find our train," Harry whispered to the owl, and he began the awkward process of dragging his chest and owl and book bag to the platform listed on the ticket. He really didn't know much about trains, but he began to think something was odd when he came to a stop between platforms nine and ten. The ticket said 9 ¾ but the platforms didn't go into fractions. The lump of nervousness that had been with him all day suddenly sank into his stomach, transforming into outright dread. He had to find the train.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something, something really important about getting on the train. Maybe it was like the entrance to Diagon Alley, where you had to know which brick to press. Swallowing against the lump in his throat and trying to keep from panicking, he stood nervously near platform nine. People were rushing busily around him, some pausing to give his owl weird looks but otherwise ignoring him. Then a man with an official looking uniform approached.

"Are you lost?" he asked, looking down at him sternly.

"Er…" Harry answered and then showed him his ticket as though that should explain everything. The man studied the ticket with a frown.

"This looks like a fake," he said, "Where are your parents?"

"Er…" Harry said again.

"Maybe you should come with me," the man said, "We'll soon find your family." And before Harry could protest, the man reached down and grabbed hold of his wrist. He began to pull Harry along towards yet another official looking person. Just when Harry was sure he was never going to get to his train, a large group barreled through them, breaking Harry free. Harry had the presence of mind to grab back his ticket and then wheeled after the group, calling back something like "Found it, thanks!" At least, that's what he meant to say but his voice might have squeaked a bit. He was lucky he still had all his luggage, though Hedwig was acting extremely annoyed at being jerked about. Harry stayed with the group, who appeared to be a very large family of red heads, until they stopped. And then Harry really started to pay attention because one of the boys had an owl.

"Oh dear," the woman who must be the mother said, looking down at Harry with great concern, "We didn't get you swept up away from your parents, did we?"

"No, ma'am," Harry answered quickly, not wanting to be sent back to the official. She looked puzzled for a moment and then turned her head about to look over her own children. There were an awful lot of them, and for a moment Harry thought they were all boys until a girl came up to ask him about Hedwig.

"I've always wanted an owl," she told him, "One that is just mine, I mean." And after that was an awkward impasse during which Harry didn't quite dare ask if they were all wizards and they didn't quite dare ask if he was one.

"Oh this is silly," one of the taller boys said at last, "Come on, mum, he has an owl!"

"Muggles have pets too, George," an even taller boy said loftily, "You can't be too careful."

"Shows what you know," the boy answered, "I'm Fred, not George." Before this could turn into a full out battle between the two, Harry decided it was safe to speak in front of them. Hagrid had told him what Muggle meant.

"Excuse me," he said, "Do you know how to get to platform 9 ¾?" That stopped them.

"See," said the boy who might have been Fred or George.

"First year?" the mother asked him then, "It's our Ron's first year too." And she nodded towards the smallest red haired boy, though he still was taller than Harry.

"I'll be going next year," the girl told him proudly. Considering that even she had an inch on Harry, he was beginning to feel very small indeed. Then the family showed him how to get to the platform and Harry was very glad that the official man hadn't kept his ticket. It was very easy once one knew the trick; all he had to do was walk into a wall. Harry simply closed his eyes and walked forward until he felt something change. When he opened his eyes once more, he was on the platform. The Hogwart's Express was before him.

Harry thanked the woman and left her to sort out her own children while he made his own way onto the train. He wondered if there was somewhere specific he was supposed to sit, but from the way children were running up and down the aisle checking out compartments, he didn't think so. He found an empty one for himself and struggled to put his chest away but quickly discovered there was no way he could lift it over his own head. Luckily, two of the brothers from before appeared. Now that he wasn't so worried and anxious about making the train, he took the time to notice that the pair looked identical. No wonder they kept changing who had which name. Then they saw Harry's scar.

Up to then, he had managed to half forget about being famous. Now he wished he had left his ridiculous hat unpacked. Thankfully the twins, once they got over the shock of him being the Harry Potter (Harry corrected them with Dursley but they didn't pay much attention to that), they didn't say anything more on it and soon left again. He heard them talking to their family near his window. It made him feel strange, in part because they were talking about him but mostly because of everything else they said as the train prepared to leave. His mind wandered back to how the Dursleys had left him, only grudgingly taking the time to stop and help him gather his belongings before speeding away. So even though he had found the train on time and was ready to go to his new school, he felt even more lost than before. Then Hedwig hooted softly from her cage and he smiled at her. Maybe he wasn't completely alone after all.


	6. Hogwarts

Chapter 6

The train had only just left the station when his compartment door opened and the smallest red-head boy looked in. He stared awkwardly at Harry for a long moment before mumbling something about everywhere else being full. Harry nodded in response, suddenly feeling shy and uncertain. Luckily the boy seemed to take that as acquiescence because he shoved himself the rest of the way into the compartment, dragging a battered chest behind him. He didn't even try to push it overhead but simply shoved it up next to himself on the seat opposite. Then both boys spent a long silence staring out the window with quick glances towards each other.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" the boy blurted out at last, and then turned bright red.

"Er, yes," Harry answered and then, "Well, I'm really Harry Dursley but no one seems to know about that here." The boy stared at him and now Harry was the one blushing as he added, "I was adopted."

"Oh," the boy answered, and then, "My name is Ron, Ron Weasely, I don't know if you caught that or not."

"Nice to meet you," Harry answered, and he held out his hand because that was what his aunt always told him to do when meeting new people. Ron stared at the hand, still looking a bit dazed. Just when Harry was about to pull his hand back, the other boy suddenly reached out and took it, shaking it animatedly with a huge grin on his face. After that it seemed a lot easier to talk.

Ron explained about being the youngest boy of six, and the horror that was his little sister, and showed Harry is rat, Scabbers. Harry, for his part, avoided talking about his own family. He admitted that they were Muggles and that he knew very little about the wizarding world, at which point Ron took it upon himself to enlighten him. This mostly centered upon the wonder that was quiditch and left Harry feeling more baffled than ever. They were interrupted just as Ron had decided to show off a spell one of his brothers had taught him by a girl with very bushy hair and large teeth. She had a very determined air about her as she dragged along a miserable looking boy who was almost as small as harry, though much plumper. Apparently he had lost his toad.

"Sorry," Harry said, "We haven't seen it." He felt bad for the boy; he would have hated to lose Hedwig before they even reached the school, and at least an owl could fly away and find him. He dreaded to think how a toad would manage on its own.

"Oh," the girl said, distracted by the way Ron was holding his wand, "Are you doing some magic?" So Ron tried his little rhyme with quite a larger audience than he had anticipated and looked very disheartened when it failed miserably. The boy whose name Harry hadn't quite gotten looked sympathetic as the girl went on about all the spells she had tried that had worked perfectly, and all the books she had read. Seeing how miserable Ron looked, Harry felt inclined to change the subject.

"Is there a spell for finding things?" he asked, "Do you think you could do that one?" The girl stopped mid sentence, staring at him with a startled expression, before her entire face lit up.

"I think I did read something!" she cried, and she dove out of the compartment again, dragging the boy with her. Just as the boys were getting settled again while Ron explained about the chocolate frog cards that Harry had bought off the food cart, the door opened again and the boy from the clothing store entered. He was flanked by two enormous boys that looked like they had to be several years above themselves.

"Is it true?" the Malfoy boy said, "They're saying all up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment."

"They are?" Harry asked, suddenly nervous. He had hoped not to be recognized until he had to be; he hoped there wouldn't be many more people coming to catch a glimpse of him like they had in the Leaky Cauldron.

"You said you were Harry Dursley," the blond boy announced in an accusing voice, his eyes sweeping towards Harry's hair line.

"It is Harry Dursley," Harry answered, "I'm adopted." He suspected he would be repeating that line many times in the future. The boy made a strange face in response, as though he wanted to sneer but was trying to be polite.

"Who are you?" Ron demanded, and for the first time Malfoy glanced towards him. The blond boy stood up straighter and his two friends cracked their knuckles menacingly from the side.

"Draco Malfoy," he answered, giving Ron a look of utter contempt, "No need to ask who you are. Red hair and hand-me-down robes. You must be a Weasely." Ron glared darkly, his face flushing red. Draco turned back towards Harry. "You'll find some wizarding families are better than others," he said, "I can help you know the right sort." And he held out his hand. Harry stared at the hand, the politeness his aunt engrained in him warring with his loyalty to his new friend.

"I think I can find the right sort for myself, thank you," Harry answered at last, doing his best to maintain a polite tone even if he didn't take the hand, "Do your friends have names?" Malfoy took his hand away, standing more haughtily than ever.

"Crabbe and Goyle," he answered. The boys in question cracked their knuckles and Harry swallowed. Then, rather unexpectedly, a toad came flying through the air and smacked Goyle right in the side of the head. He gave a very high pitched shriek as the toad ricocheted, over him, landed on Malfoy's head, then splatted directly into Crabbe's face as he turned his head to see what the fuss was. The toad continued its journey down the hall as people ducked and shrieked and otherwise dove for cover. Far in the distance they finally heard an excited cry of 'Trevor!'.

In Harry's compartment, the two boys stared out at the three and for a long moment all five boys were frozen in place, two with shock and three with growing horror. Then Ron doubled up in squeals of laughter.

Harry tried not to join him, thinking it would be rude and probably a bit cruel to laugh at the others' misfortune, but they looked so ridiculous as all three began to shriek, Malfoy rubbing his hair frantically and Crabbe running for the closest loo, desperate to wash away any toad residue. Goyle was the calmest, not actually having seen what hit him, and he was also the only one starting into the compartment with a stormy expression. It was that moment that the oldest Weasely showed up.

"Really, Ron, fighting already!" the prefect cried, "I expect more of you!" Considering that Ron hadn't even stopped laughing yet long enough to realize his own danger, that was a bit unfair. Malfoy stopped messing with his hair long enough to sniff imperiously towards the older boy before he stomped off to where Crabbe had disappeared. Goyle let go of Ron's robe where he had grabbed him in preparation of beating him to a pulp, but then he went after the sweets that covered the seat next to them, glaring towards Harry as though daring him to object. Harry didn't object; he didn't have to. Goyle had no sooner stuck his greedy paw into the pile than he was shrieking louder than even when the toad had hit him. Scabbers had bitten into his finger. He soon sent the rat flying into the window and then he, like his friends, went running from the compartment.

Percy looked hesitant between checking on the rat and running after the bitten boy. He finally left when it became apparent Scabbers was only sleeping once more. The rest of the train ride was much quieter, broken only by the girl coming again to tell them they had found the toad and to instruct them to put their uniforms because they were almost there. Harry had to have Ron help him get his chest down before he could get out one of his new robes. Ron already had one on from when he was telling Harry about wizard robes. He spent the time that Harry took to change scowling and rubbing at his nose where Hermione had said he had a bit of dirt. The twins showed up just as the train was pulling to a stop, they said to make sure Harry got his chest down alright but mostly they took the time to tease their brother. The train stopped.

Harry clambered off the train with difficulty, following Ron to a luggage rack. He was nervous about leaving his stuff behind, wondering how it would get back to him as nothing was tagged, but no one else seemed too worried so he decided not to either. Then he heard a familiar voice.

"First years!" it cried and soon Harry and Ron were joining others in their age group next to Hagrid. At last, Harry had his first glimpse of the castle. He wasn't the only one to stare at it in awe. All too soon they were being ushered inside of it, leaving Hagrid behind before being left to stand in a corridor. The students began to fidget while the waited, speculating in hushed voices what they would soon be facing. Ron mentioned fighting a troll. Then several of the children shrieked when ghosts appeared. Harry thought the ghosts sounded quite friendly for dead people. Then a woman came out, gave them a stern speech, and led them into the great hall.

There were no trolls, but the room could certainly have fit several of the easily. Instead there were tables of students and one for staff. Harry couldn't see very well over the other 

children's heads, but he soon came to understand that all the great fuss was over a hat. Suddenly Hagrid's remarks in Diagon Alley made a lot more sense. He listened closely to the hat's song and tried to guess which house would fit him best. He hoped he wouldn't be stuck in Slytherin with the Malfoy boy, and he thought it would be nice if he and Ron were in the same house, but otherwise he didn't really care. So long as the hat didn't decide he wasn't magical after all and make him go home, he'd be fine. Professor McGonagall began call students up to the stool.

Harry watched carefully so that he would know where to sit when his house was called. Considering the way the other students cheered every time someone joined their house, he didn't really think he would have a problem, but it never hurt to be sure. He watched as Crabbe was sorted quickly into Slytherin, and began to grow really nervous. He knew his name would be soon. And then…

"Entwhistle, Kevin!" A boy, presumably Kevin, walked up to the hat and was soon sorted into Ravenclaw. Harry stood frozen, but it wasn't until a 'Finch-Fletchley, Justin' had been sorted into Hufflepuff that it really sank in. There had been no shout for Harry Dursley. He wasn't going to be called.


	7. Sorted

Chapter 7

Harry stood nervously as name after name continued to be called. The bushy haired girl turned out to be called 'Granger, Hermione' and was sorted into Gryffindor. Harry heard Ron mutter that he would have thought she was Ravenclaw for sure. The toad boy made another Gryffindor. By this point, Harry felt like he might get a panic attack at any moment. He just imagined everyone being sorted and him still standing there in the middle of the hall while everyone stared at him, until the stern professor told him there was a mistake and he had to go home again. He didn't think he could bare it. No one else, not even Ron who knew perfectly well what Harry's name was, seemed to even notice. And then, he heard,

"Potter, Harry!" and he nearly collapsed. Still he hesitated to go up, suddenly afraid that there really was a mistake and a different Harry would soon go up to be sorted. But no one else moved, except to whisper and crane their heads from every table to try and see the great Harry Potter. Ron poked Harry in his back, hissing for him to go up there. Finally, Harry did.

The hiss of whispers rose in volume with every step and he could feel all those eyes staring and staring at him. He blushed bright red and quickly put the large hat over his head. It fell down over his eyes and for a moment Harry could imagine that he was alone. He jumped when he heard a voice; the hat was talking!

"Hmm," the hat murmured, "Very interesting. You would do well in most any house. Plenty of courage, I see, and a thirst for knowledge. Great ambitions, but misplaced, I think. I am not so certain your family can be swayed."

"I don't know what you mean," Harry whispered back, not wanting to be heard talking with the hat.

"Well, Dursley," the hat said, "I can see loyalty is very important to you, so better be Hufflepuff!" This last word was shouted out to the whole school. With a sigh of relief that he had been sorted after all, and that he wouldn't have to be in the same house as Malfoy and his two friends, Harry took off the hat and walked over towards one of the middle tables. His first few steps were made in an awkward silence, but suddenly the Hufflepuff table exploded into cheers. A couple of the other houses clapped politely, which Harry thought odd because he didn't remember them doing that for anyone else. As quickly as he could, still blushing bright red, Harry sat down next to some of the other first years. He was soon surrounded by people who seemed determined to greet him as long and loudly as they could manage. Harry didn't think his face would ever go back to its usual color. He huddled down in his bench and waited until the cheering died down as the person after him went to be sorted.

Harry hardly dared to look up from his seat, not wanting to notice all the people staring at him, but he did hear when Ron was finally sorted into Gryffindor. He was a little disappointed that his new friend wouldn't be in his house, but happy that Ron was where he wanted to be. A couple of people later, the sorting was finished.

The headmaster Dumbledore came up to say a few words and then soon food appeared on all the tables. Harry finally looked up from his lap so that he could serve himself from the abundance of food. He wondered if they would always eat this well, and if they did who cooked all the food. Perhaps there was magic involved in making it; perhaps they would get to learn 

about it in their magic classes. Then, as appetites began to wane, people around him started to talk. A tall boy with dark curly hair reached his hand towards Harry as though offering to shake.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he announced, "You've certainly created quite a stir."

"Er, Harry Dursley," Harry answered, taking the hand nervously. The other boy nodded in a friendly manner, but the other students around him gaped.

"I thought you were Harry Potter," a boy on the other side of Justin declared, and then, "I'm Zacharias, by the way, second year." Before Harry could open his mouth to explain, a girl from across the table sent Zacharias a fierce glare.

"There's no need to be rude," she declared, "If he says his name is Dursley, than it's Dursley." Harry gave her a weak smile and she leaned across the table to offer her hand. "I'm Lisa Summers," she said.

"Harry Dursley," Harry repeated, taking the hand, "I was adopted. I didn't even know my real parents were named Potter until this summer." She smiled in response before kicking the girl sitting next to her for gaping. The other girl shut her mouth quickly, then opened it to mumble, "Hannah Abbott." She didn't try to offer her hand, but that could have been because of the distance between them. Her announcement seemed to be the cue for everyone start introducing themselves because all the students around Harry started to give their names. Most of them were first years but quite a few of the older students came over as well. He also heard many whispers, probably from the Muggleborn, wanting to know just who this Harry Potter was. Harry must have explain at least a dozen times that his name was really Dursley, but it seemed slow to catch on.

Finally Dumbledore stood again, made a few announcements including an off limits corridor, and soon it was time for them all to go back to their dorms. Harry glanced back at the Gryffindor table where Ron was getting ready to follow his brother out. Ron looked back towards him at the last second and Harry gave him a small wave. Ron frowned, but he waved back in the end before hurrying after the others in his year. Then Harry turned to see his own year mates lining up behind a boy who introduced himself as George Percywell before instructing everyone to follow him. Harry fell into line behind him between Justin and Lisa.

He led them swiftly through the entrance hall and into a door to the right of the great stairs. From there they took another staircase downwards, through a couple more stone hallways, before finally stopping in front of a large still life painting of a bowl of fruit. A few of the students jumped when a worm suddenly popped its head out of an apple.

"This is Borrice the Worm," the prefect announced, "He guards the entrance to Hufflepuff rooms. To enter, just stick your finger into his mouth and he'll scan you. Borrice can't be fooled by potions or illusions or any number of magical tricks, and he'll only let you in if he recognizes your magical signature." Then George Percywell turned to the painting and put his finger right on top of where the worm's mouth presumably was. The worm started flashing different colors before binging and the prefect pulled his finger away. The entire portrait swung open like a door, and the prefect stepped through.

The first years followed more slowly, stepping into an unexpectedly cozy and earthen space. The walls were brown with black and gold veins. It reminded Harry of roots strung through dirt. The room was filled with plush couches clothed in gold and sturdy black tables. A soft, pale green carped was lain upon the floor with black and gold woven through it. The room itself was round and a small fire place was put every couple of meters or so, each of them lit and crackling gently. It was a very comfortable and homey looking place. On the far side of the room were four separate tunnels, all of them round and made of the same design as the common room, but without the fireplaces or furniture. Golden globes lit up the tunnels, rather than the expected torches that seemed to fill the dungeons.

"Welcome to Badger House," Prefect Percywell continued once they were all inside, and the door had closed once more, "I'll show you to your dorm rooms and then we will all come back out here for orientation. Boys follow me; girls go after Shannon Abbey." And yet another upperclassman appeared, waving her hand for the girls to follow. Harry went with the other boys down one the passage farthest to the right. It curled downwards and away from its neighbors. They passed three doors, each large and round like barrel tops before the prefect stopped and opened the door. It opened onto a round room of similar design to the common room except that it was smaller, only contained two fireplaces, and held bedroom furniture rather than couches and tables. There were five beds around the room. The beds weren't completely round but their corners were rounded a bit and they were low to the ground and covered in at least three pillows to a bed. Thick golden comforters covered each bed with the pillows different shades of yellow, some edged in black, and a couple pale green like the carpet. Beside each bed was a set of drawers that could alternately be used as a desk, complete with a chair. These were made of dark black wood. At the food of the beds were their trunks.

Harry found his quickly, relieved to see both his new suitcase and his backpack, still heavy with books. An owl stand had also been set up, under which Hedwig's cage swung. The cage was empty. His bed was in the far corner, or what would have been a corner if the room had corners. At any rate, it was far from the entrance door or the second door which Harry presumed led to the bathrooms and toilets. This was confirmed when one of the boys who Harry vaguely remembered as Wayne ran past them and through the door. He returned a short time later looking much relieved.

Prefect Percywell let them explore the room for a few minutes before calling them altogether again and led them back out to the common room. It was much more filled this time around; it seemed there must be just about every Hufflepuff in Hogwarts present now. They were all huddled into age groups, and harry couldn't help but notice that most of the older years had a good deal more people in their age group than was in his own. He wondered why. Then the girls were joining them and the prefects pulled the first years up to the front of everyone where a large, plump witch was waiting with a kind, motherly smile.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome back to Hogwarts!" she cried, "For those of you who are new, I am your head of house, Pomona Sprout. I am also your professor for herbology. Now, a few quick announcements and then you older students can go and we'll begin orientation for the younger students."

Most of the announcements were addressed to the older students, especially those getting ready for OWLS or NEWTS. Harry stopped paying attention halfway through until suddenly, 

most of the students were leaving. Finally only the first years were left. Professor Sprout motioned them all towards a couple of the couches, taking a chair for herself. A couple of the prefects followed, including Percywell, and started handing out scrolls. The scrolls unrolled to show, on one side, house rules and on the other a list of activities and times. Professor Sprout went over the rules first, which were mostly common sense anyway, and then the list of activities.

"There are many clubs and other sorts of groups available to you here," she announced, "I advise you to try a few out and see what you like best. For those of you who are Muggleborn or would like to learn more about your culture, I would especially like to point out the wizarding culture meetings every Tuesday and Thursday evening. These are led by upperclassmen, including our own prefect Shannon Abbey." The girl who had shown the first year girls their dorm waved her hand. "These meetings aren't mandatory, of course, but we've found they help Muggleborn students to learn their way about a bit easier." Then stacks of parchment were handed out. Harry looked down at his own and discovered it was a map of the school. Several colored lines were strung throughout, labeled for different classes. They all started from the great hall.

Professor Sprout gave them a quick summary of their different classes and professors and asked for questions. No one had any. Harry blinked his eyes, feeling full and sleepy and like he would probably have a million questions later if only he were allowed to go to bed now. The professor probably realized half her audience was falling asleep because she finally left, giving them one last reminder to be at breakfast no later than 7:30.

Back in the dorm rooms, everyone was giddy with sleepiness. Most of them had gotten up extra early that morning, or else hadn't slept well because of nerves, but none of them seemed to want to go to bed just then, either. Harry only managed to figure out that the boy in the bed closest to his was named Evan and that the boy across the room from him snored rather loudly before he was drifting off himself. The remaining boys continued to whisper for a while longer, the last two managing a full hour before they, too, succumbed to sleep.

So it was no great surprise that no one was yet awake when Prefect Percywell stuck his head in on his way to breakfast.

Author's note: Considering the lack of information provided by the books on Hufflepuff, I had to do a bit of searching. I found most information from www. hp-lexicon. org , including names of Harry's year mates and a basic description of the Hufflepuff rooms (I fabricated a lot of it myself, but the location, gold and black colors, round doors and tunnels are all Rowling). Though I got the still life painting from the site as well, Borrice the Worm is entirely my own invention. Of those in Harry's year that aren't strictly cannon, I either got them from one of Rowling's earlier lists (and not entirely canon to the books, but as Hufflepuff doesn't really come up in canon I supposed they were good enough) or from my own creation, often taking canon students and giving them relatives (which could be true, it just is never mentioned in the books). For the most part, I have been trying to keep the story cannon except for the major difference that is Harry Potter becoming Harry Dursley and consequently being sorted into Hufflepuff. Most changes passed that are my attempt to keep to the books without re-writing the books word 

for word (which is why Malfoy's dialogue has changed, as has the Trevor incident on the train…I always find it boring when authors attempt to keep things cannon by borrowing word for word what happens in the books) Snape may also wind up slightly different from canon (partly because in calling Harry 'Dursley', it is easier for him to distance Harry from his father and partly because of my Hufflepuff-ish desire to 'fix' things between characters). I haven't really decided how to deal with him.

Oh, and thanks for the reviews I've gotten so far!


	8. The Morning

Chapter 8

Harry awoke abruptly to everyone speedily getting ready for breakfast. He had no time to dwell on the luxury of a soft mattress, nor the strangeness of waking up in a new environment surrounded by people he didn't know. He didn't even have time to think about the Dursleys or the garden he had left behind as he, too, struggled into his uniform and followed the others back to the table of the night before.

It was different in the morning. The enchanted ceiling created a strange sensation of eating outdoors, the coolness of the stone walls reflecting the chill of the early morning. The sky was gray and pale, the sun not yet breaching the walls to shine down upon them. The students were quiet as they trickled in to breakfast, a few snoring quietly into their plate. Harry, now that he was up, didn't feel sleepy at all. He was used to getting up early, enjoying the space of time before his relatives started pulling themselves out of bed and demanding his culinary skills. It was strange to sit at a table and help himself to food he had no hand in preparing.

"Didn't Professor Sprout give us our schedules last night?" Justin asked from his seat next to Harry, "Who do we have first?"

"She didn't," a girl from the other side of Harry answered, "She just gave us the maps and the rules and activities. She didn't give us our classes yet." The girl pulled the scroll and map out from her robe, pushing aside her empty plate to show them.

"The professor over there is handing out parchment to that table," Lisa pointed out from the other side of the girl, "They must hand it out at breakfast. I wonder why they don't do it sooner." Harry was considering this, waiting with the other first years to see if Professor Sprout was going to come with their assignments, when a group of older students approached them. They weren't from Hufflepuff, Harry didn't think, and it made it nervous the way they were all staring at him.

"So you're Harry Potter?" the girl in the lead asked, her voice sounding nervous.

"He's shorter than I thought he'd be," someone whispered from the back of the group before his friend elbowed him.

"I'm Harry Dursley," Harry explained, equally nervous and trying not to squirm in his seat. Aunt Petunia always hated it when he squirmed. Several of the older students gave him a weird look. Luckily, just at that moment the plump professor Sprout came bustling through, sending all the older students on their way as she passed out sheets of parchment. Harry took his with relief, hoping the rest of the day wouldn't be filled with strangers coming up to him like that.

"Are people always like that with you?" Justin whispered, "I thought that girl in front was about to propose, the way she was staring." Harry blushed.

"I'm not famous where I come from," he whispered back, "I never even knew about anything. I wish they'd stop."

"It does seem rather rude," Lisa remarked, leaning around the girl she sat next to. Hannah, across the table from Harry, nodded her head in agreement though no one was looking in her direction to see because at that moment the mail arrived. Harry gasped as what seemed to be a thousand owls of every type swooped down upon the breakfast table. Harry unconsciously moved his arms to guard his mostly empty plate, a lesson learned from sitting next to Dudley for ten years, but the owls didn't descend upon the food. The dropped letters and packages and bundles in front of various students. Some of the owls stayed long enough to accept a morsel of food but then they flew away again. Harry watched them go, suddenly wondering where Hedwig was. She hadn't come with the other owls.

Harry looked around the Hufflepuff table at the other first years and quickly saw he wasn't the only one surprised by the arrival of the owls. Justin next to him and Hannah across the table were both staring in surprised confusion. Hannah had ducked half under the table and was now pulling herself up again, her face bright red.

"It's just the owl post," Lisa explained, leaning around the girl next to Harry who was at that moment picking up her own letter, "I think they do that every morning, or that's what my brother said."

"Wizards like to send mail by owl," the girl added, not looking up from her letter, "One thing my mum never could get used to after she married dad. She hates birds."

"Are you a half blood, then?" Lisa asked, sounding curious. The girl nodded absently.

"I'm Muggleborn," Lisa said to the others, "But I have an older brother already here, so I know all about things."

"All about things?" a voice asked from behind her and she jumped, "You won't have to worry about getting on to classes, then?" She turned and glared at an older Hufflepuff boy, but it didn't last long before she smiled at him.

"I'm never believing anything you say again, Lyle," she said, "Going on about fighting trolls."

"I got the idea from the twins," he answered, grinning back, before he wandered off towards the Gryffindor table, despite the fact that Harry had caught sight of his badge which clearly placed him in Hufflepuff.

"My brother," Lisa explained, and then the prefect was walking by to remind them that their first class started at nine, which was to say in half an hour. A lot of the people had already left breakfast right after the owl post. Harry looked over towards the Gryffindor table, thinking of Ron, but he didn't see him. He supposed he must have already left, too.

"I suppose we better go," Justin remarked, "What do we have for our first class?"

"Charms with Gryffindor," Harry answered, after looking at the piece of parchment Professor Sprout had handed out. He smiled; he would be able to see Ron then. Of course, Transfiguration after that would be with Malfoy and his cronies. The first years got up and followed the impatient Percywell back towards their dorms.

"I don't know why he's so bothered," Harry heard Hannah whisper to Lisa, "Our room isn't exactly hard to find; he could have left us."

"I think he's supposed to show us to class afterwards," Lisa whispered back and Hannah nodded. Then she noticed Harry and Justin behind them and went suddenly quiet.

Harry's backpack was still filled with random books and everything else that wouldn't fit in his trunk, so he hastily dumped the entire thing out on his bed. Finding the proper books he wanted was a bit harder; one turned up buried in his trunk and the other had somehow came to rest under his pillow after he had dumped it out of his backpack. He only just had time to stuff some extra parchment and his new quill set in with the books before Prefect Percywell was calling for them again. They didn't even have a chance to consult their maps before the prefect marched all the first years down a confusing maze of halls and stairways until they reached the Charms classroom. A couple of the Gryffindors were already there, including the bushy haired girl, but not Ron. It didn't seem that they had a prefect walk them to class and Harry was suddenly glad that they had Percywell to show them around. He would have hated to be late to his first class because he got lost.

Since Ron wasn't there, Harry sat next to Justin. Lisa and Hannah sat together. The two other Hufflepuff girls that Harry hadn't really talked to yet also sat together, leaving the girl Harry had been sitting next to at breakfast to find her own seat. She didn't seem to care, sitting at one of the nearby empty tables. The bushy haired Gryffindor sat next to her. The rest of the students alligned themselves into a similar pattern, girls sitting with girls and boys with boys while they tried to keep to their own house as closely as possible. Because Hufflepuff had shown up first they were mostly sitting on the side closest to the door and towards the back, except for the mixed house girl pair who sat right up at the front, a table ahead of Harry's. Slowly, the rest of the Gryffendors trickled in. Ron was one of the last, running in the door just before the bell rang. Harry gave him a wave but he didn't think the boy saw him. He made for one of the only seats left, next to a Hufflepuff boy who Harry still didn't know the name of in the front of the classroom.

The professor arrived as the bell rang, shutting the door with a flick of his wand. He was a tiny man, so small that he climbed up on a stack of books behind his desk before he called roll. Like with the sorting hat, Harry was listed under Potter. The professor gave an excited squeak after he read the name and toppled backwards off his stack of books. He came back up a moment later and continued roll, just as though nothing had happened. Harry didn't quite dare tell him, in front of the entire class, that his name was really Dursley and he wondered how in the world he was going to correct this. He knew that if he didn't do it soon, he'd probably be stuck as Potter for the rest of his stay at the school.

Professor Flitwick, for that was his name, began with a lecture about what charms was and how they were expected to behave in class. Then he pulled out his own wand and charmed Ron's book to dance about his desk. It was very impressive, but it didn't seem they would be making anything dance anytime soon. He told them their next lesson would be on making their books open upon the information they want.

"And a very useful spell when it comes to studying," the professor assured them, "Even if it lacks the dazzle of the more complex charms." After class, Harry ran up to Ron before he could disappear.

"Hey," he said, and then stopped, suddenly feeling shy. Even if they had shared an entire train ride together, he wasn't sure how the other boy felt about him. Ron back at him with a closed expression.

"Hey," he answered at last. They stood, staring at each other and fidgeting nervously, each waiting for the other to speak.

"So, what's Gryffindor like?" Harry asked at last, not knowing what else to say.

"It's great," Ron answered, "Even if I have to share the dorm with four other boys."

"Hufflepuff seems nice," Harry said, "Professor Sprout gave us maps and activities and things. I'm thinking about going to the wizard culture classes."

"Wizard culture classes?" the bushy haired girl demanded. She had stayed behind to ask the professor a few questions and was only just leaving when she heard them talking. Harry nodded, eying her nervously.

"No one mentioned that!" she exclaimed, "They aren't just for Hufflepuffs, are they?"

"Er, I don't think so," Harry answered, "Though a Hufflepuff is one of the teachers." But he didn't have the list of activities with him so he couldn't tell her where or when the classes were. Luckily, professor Flitwick happened to hear.

"Wizard Culture is in the Muggle Studies classroom, Tuesday and Thursday evenings," he said as he shooed them towards the door. It was only after he left the classroom that Harry realized the other Hufflepuffs had already left, presumably after Prefect Percywell. He also realized he only had five minutes to get to class. Quickly, he searched through his back pack, only to discover that it was not only the list of school activities he had left in the dorm. He didn't have his map.


	9. Belonging

Chapter 9

Belonging

Harry managed to ask one of the third year students arriving for his own Charms class where the Transfiguration classroom was. Luckily it turned out to be Lisa's older brother who not only remembered him as his sister's friend but also completely failed to gawk at Harry's scar and waste time over talking with the boy who lived. He gave very clear instructions which Harry managed to follow halfway through before a staircase changed and he found himself utterly lost.

It was only after a somewhat disturbing run in with the creepy caretaker (he had somehow wound up next to the forbidden corridor, not that he was trying to get in once he found the door was locked) that he found he could ask the portraits for directions. In fact it was a portrait of an old wizard in a library who first spoke, advising the boy to hurry on before he was late to class.

"I don't know where class is!" he cried, agitated, at which point the portrait kindly pointed him in the right direction. After that, he asked the portraits for help at every turn, but even at a run the bell was already ringing before he finally found the classroom. He slid inside, breathing heavily, glad to find the door unlocked.

"You are late, Mr. Potter," the stern professor at the front of the room declared sternly.

"Sorry," Harry answered, face red and still a bit out of breath. She eyed him for a long moment and he stood, uncertain of what he was supposed to do now.

"If you are late again, I will dock points," she said at last, and then, when Harry still stood there she said, "Take your seat, Mr. Potter." The Slytherins snickered at that and Harry felt his face going even hotter. He finally slid into a seat next to the girl he had been next to at breakfast, though he still didn't know her name.

The first Transfiguration class was just about the same as Charms. The professor transfigured her desk into a large hog and then back into a desk before turning them on the much less interesting task of turning matches into needles. It was much harder than McGonagal made it look. Harry didn't manage it at all in fact, though his neighbor's match turned a bit gray. He finally learned her name was Megan Jones. To Harry's disgust, Malfoy managed to make his match turn metallic, though it still otherwise looked like a match. McGonagal gave him points. As the bell rang and everyone was getting ready to go, the professor called for Harry to stay behind.

"Mr. Potter," she said once they were alone, "Can you tell me why you weren't with the rest of your classmates when they first arrived to class?"

"Er...I wanted to talk to Ron," Harry admitted, not knowing what else to say, "And I mentioned Wizard Culture classes and another girl wanted to know about them. By the time we finished talking, everyone had left."

"So you are getting on with the other Hufflepuffs?" McGonagal asked, "You're making friends?"

"Yes," he answered, and then, after she stared at him sternly, "Yes ma'am." And then, because he was there and he didn't think he'd ever have the courage to stay back and talk to her again he said, "I was wondering, professor, if you couldn't call me Dursley, because that's my name really, even though everyone seems to know me as Potter here." This was said in one long rush before he lost his nerve, and she got a startled, blank look on her face as she attempted to unravel his sentence.

"You prefer Dursley?" she asked at last, sounding a bit strange.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, "I was adopted by the Dursleys and they gave me that name. I didn't even know about being a Potter until I got here." She studied him for a long moment, a strange almost sad look in her eyes.

"If that is what you wish, I will try and pass the news along," she answered, "Now, go on to lunch, Mr. Dursley. I'm believe Mr. Finch-Fletchley is waiting for you." Harry glanced out the door, startled, and saw that Justin was indeed standing there. He said a quick goodbye to the professor and darted out after him.

Not only was Justin standing there, but so was Megan and Lisa. Harry smiled cautiously towards them, and McGonagal's questions about making friends came back to him. He felt awkward and strange because he had never really had friends before. There had never been someone to talk to on the train, or people to wait for him when he got held up after class.

"We told Percywell to go on, since we have our maps," Justin said as Harry came out. Megan was already tracing her finger over her map, apparently determining the best rout back to their dorm rooms.

"I left my map behind," Harry mentioned, "The portraits will tell you the way, though."

"Sorry about leaving you then," Justin said, looking suddenly guilty, "I didn't realize you hadn't followed."

"Not your fault," Harry answered, "I stopped to talk to Ron." The other three nodded, though they obviously had no idea who Ron was, and Megan started to lead the way down to their dorms. It was much faster with a map and in no time Harry and Justin were joining the other boys of their year in their dorm. There next class wasn't for another hour and a half and everyone's minds turned towards lunch. Breakfast seemed a very long time ago.

"Where were you?" one of the boys asked as they came in. It looked as though he had been standing by the door waiting on them.

"Leave them alone, Ernie," one of the other boys called from his bed, "You heard McGonagal cal him back." Ernie shrugged, nodding in a way that was probably meant to be friendly. When they did all decide to go to lunch, the prefect didn't come to show them the way so they wound up walking separately from the girls. Harry ended up sitting next to Justin and another Hufflepuff he hadn't had the chance to talk much with yet. He turned out to be named Wayne Hopkins, a half blood like Megan. Wayne in turn was sitting next to Evan Branstone, one of the few Hufflepuff pure bloods in their year. Evan's pure blood attitude seemed more akin to Ron than Malfoy, luckily, and he urged them all to go to the wizard culture classes.

"There's nothing wrong with being Muggleborn," he explained, "But there's so much you're missing when you don't grow up with it. My father says all Muggleborn should be required to learn our culture. That's what most pure blood families are concerned about you know, that our culture gets lost as we intermingle with Muggles."

"My mum things the wizarding world could learn a thing or two from Muggles," Megan mentioned from across the table, "She thinks we're backwards a bit, using quills and owls."

"Well, I'm not saying we have to ignore everything Muggle," Evan said, hesitantly, "But we shouldn't allow ourselves to be swallowed up by them. Like quills, they're more personal than those factory pens you Muggleborn seem to favor. Better for magic, when you use something personal. You'll understand better if you take the class."

After lunch was History of Magic, which seemed very exciting when they discovered it was taught by a ghost. By the end of the hour, however, half the class was asleep. Even the Ravenclaws who sat the class with them and were notorious for meticulous note taking were nodding off. The ghost didn't bother with calling roll, perhaps because he couldn't unroll the parchment lying on his desk to call it. Harry supposed he could have had a student do it for him, but honestly the ghost only seemed interested in reciting, in monotone, about goblin wars. Harry felt cheated; if anyone else had been telling them about goblin wars he was sure it would have been terribly exciting. Now he was certain the topic was ruined for him forever.

After that was a break, during which Ernie insisted he wanted to find the library and Prefect Percywell decided that all the first years ought to know anyway, and insisted on taking them all. The library was mostly empty when they did file in except for a few of the upperclassmen and one Gryffindor. The bushy haired girl who Harry vaguely remembered to be called Granger was trying out the book charm. She looked happy to catch Harry.

"I know Professor Flitwick said they were in the evening, but I didn't know at what time and I really don't want to miss them." Then Evan got into a hushed but passionate conversation with her about the importance of wizard culture and Harry managed to slip away with Justin and Wayne. Ernie appeared just as interested in the conversation as Evan.

After the break they had two hours of Defense Against the Dark Arts, another class that sounded promising but was utterly ruined by the professor teaching it. Professor Quirrell acted frightened of the subject he taught, stuttering over the words, and his classroom was filled with a strange smell. Perhaps it was because of the smell that Harry began to get a minor headache, throbbing just above his eyes. Oddly enough it radiated only on one side of his forehead. The professor also called Harry 'Potter', and Harry began to wonder if McGonagal had spoken to the other professors after all, or if everyone was going to just ignore it anyway. At least he had one professor getting his name right. Finally, their first day of classes was over. Everyone followed the prefect one last time back to their dorm rooms to drop off their bags and talk about their classes. Harry told Justin about Ron then, and wondered if it was very strange for people to have friends in other houses.

"I don't think so," the boy answered, "You see Lisa's brother sitting at the Gryffindor table half the time, so it can't be that odd. Maybe you should go try talking to him at dinner."

"Do you want to come too?" Harry asked, hesitantly, and it seemed to be the right thing to say when Justin immediately looked much happier than he had before. Perhaps he thought Harry would rather be friends with Ron than him. Harry, for his part, was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. He had gone from having no friends at all, to having people wait for him and want to sit with him at meals. Of course, a good deal of people kept staring at him and wanting to talk in the halls just because of his scar, but so far the prefect had managed to keep them at a distance.

"Can I come too?" Wayne asked, apparently overhearing them, "Otherwise it will be them going on about the importance of wizard culture all through the meal." Harry laughed, and then covered his mouth, startled. The Dursleys had never much liked it when he laughed, or cried or made any sort of noise for that matter. The other two boys looked at him oddly but then they all settled down together, making plans for what to do after dinner. It was in that moment that Harry was certain he wasn't sorry for leaving the Dursleys, even if they neglected the garden all the time he was gone. He had finally found someplace he belonged.


	10. Friends or Not

Chapter 10

Friends

No one said anything to the three first years when they headed towards the Gryffindor table at dinnertime. No one seemed to notice or care as Harry approached Ron cautiously. In fact, if he hadn't had Justin and Wayne behind him he probably would have chickened out and gone back to Hufflepuff. As it was, he felt equally as silly to back out, so he took a deep breath and tapped Ron on the shoulder.

Ron turned around and blinked at them, his mouth still full from a mouthful of food.

"Who's this, Ron?" his neighbor asked turning to look, and this his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Harry.

"You're Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, his voice squeaking slightly. Ron swallowed his mouthful of food.

"Hey, yeah, I told you I met him on the bus," Ron answered, "What are you doing over here, Harry?"

"Do you mind if we sit here?" Harry asked, shifting nervously away from the stares that had come his way since the boy had shouted.

"You can stop staring," Justin said from Harry's back, "And his name is Harry Dursley, you know." The staring boy turned red and looked away, but most people ignored Justin's outburst.

"Is it allowed?" the Granger girl asked from across the table, "Can we sit at other tables?"

"Aw, our Harry is growing up," one of the Weasley twins cried, appearing from nowhere.

"Breaking rules," the other cried, "Defying boundaries."

"Crossing houses," the first finished, "I'm so proud."

"So it isn't allowed?" Harry asked nervously, though he was glad that now most people had turned to stare at the twins rather than himself.

"Students are only required to sit at their house tables during the Opening and Closing Feasts," yet another Weasley informed them, flashing his prefect badge as though to prove his authority on the matter. Harry slid into a seat next to Ron at last as the twins turned on Percy, still going on about rebel table sitters. Justin and Wayne sat down next to him, though it was a bit of a squeeze. A few people were still trying to catch a glimpse of Harry but most had turned their attention on the twin's antics, leaving the first years in peace.

"So…" Ron said after a moment of sudden, awkeward silence, "What is Hufflepuff like?"

"It's okay," Harry answered, and then remembering his new friends he said, "This is Ron Weasley who I was telling you about. And this is Wayne Hopkins and Justin…er…this is Justin."

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," Justin said, leaning around both boys to try and shake Ron's hand, "A bit of a mouthful, I know." Harry was relieved that he didn't seem mad Harry had forgotten his name.

"Hello," Ron answered, and then, when his neighbor had elbowed him, he said, "This is Eric Otter."

"Nice to meet you Harry," Eric said, offering his hand. Harry shook it nervously. Eric had blond white hair that reminded him of Malfoy, though he didn't have the same stuck up air. He also had a slight accent that Harry couldn't quite place. He didn't offer his hand to Justin or Wayne.

"I grew up in Switzerland," the boy continued, "My mum's homeland. Almost didn't come to Hogwarts at all, but my dad thought it important I come here. He was a Ravenclaw."

"Oh," Harry said, unsure what he was supposed to say to that. He turned back towards Wayne, unsure if this was some pure blood tradition, but Wayne was only staring towards Eric with a slightly dumbfounded expression. Justin simply looked annoyed.

"So, what is Gryffindor like?" Harry asked, directing his question towards Ron, but as Ron once again had his mouth full, Eric leaped in to answer.

"It's brilliant, Harry," he said, "We're up in the tower, of course, and it's all red and gold and very regal."

"We're black and yellow, I think," Wayne said from Harry's side, "Though I personally don't see the difference between yellow and gold, except yellow usually looks brighter." Eric frowned slightly and Ron managed to swallow. Harry hadn't actually attempted to eat anything yet.

"It's not bad," Ron said, "It has a nice view. I hear Hufflepuff is in the dungeons."

"Well, we're underground," Harry agreed, "I've been worried that Hedwig won't like it much. Oh, do you know where the owls stay? I wanted to check on her."

"I'll show you," Ron answered, and he moved as though he might jump up at once.

"Hold on, we haven't eaten yet," Justin pointed out. Ron sat back down quickly, looked embarrassed. Then they all started eating, Harry sinking low in his seat when he began to notice people were still looking at him. Across the table was Granger, who luckily seemed more interested in her book than him, but the small boy next to her kept giving him almost worshipful, awe filled glances, and the two girls on her other side kept glancing his way and giggling. Harry began to hope that Ron would join him at Hufflepuff table next time; at least the first years there seemed mostly used to him by now.

The walk to the owlery went better than dinner because they managed to leave most of the stares behind. Unfortunately, Eric decided to tag along as well. The other boy from across the table also came, but that seemed to be because he had an actual letter he wanted to send to his grandmother rather than any desire to trail after Harry. At any rate he didn't speak, and only gave Harry an occasional shy glance as they walked. The other two Gryffindor ignored him but Wayne finally asked who he was.

"Neville Longbottom," he answered. They continued walking a long way while Eric told Harry all about living in Switzerland and his family and what he thought about the school so far. He seemed to ignore everyone else, including Ron. He didn't notice when Justin started walking directly behind him, mimicking his haughty, friendly chatter. Harry had to work hard not to laugh, not wanting to offend anyone.

It turned out, Ron didn't actually know exactly where the owlery was. When they took a turn and somehow found themselves walking outside just before the lake, he finally admitted that he had gotten his directions from the twins. Eric complained loudly that he had been leading them in circles, at which point Wayne and Justin said he needn't have followed them if he didn't want to. Neville said, somewhat nervously, that he thought he could see the tower from where they stood. The group set off again, this time with Neville in the lead. They found the owlery soon after that.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried when he caught sight of her. She flew down to him with what Harry felt sure was a fond expression. "I guess you're happy to stretch your wings," Harry said, stroking her feathers.

"Beautiful bird, Harry," Eric said admiringly, reaching out a hand to pet her. She snapped at his fingers and he pulled back quickly.

"Familiars don't like strangers handling them," Neville mentioned, "Trevor will pee on anyone who picks him up except for me. Well, usually except for me."

"Owls aren't familiars," Eric answered, frowning, "They're pets trained to take the mail. I'm not some Muggleborn new to all things magic, you know."

"But owls are familiars," Neville insisted, once Eric had stalked a bit away, "They bond with a witch or wizard or to a magical location like the school. Otherwise, how could they do anyone's bidding?" Then he went on to find a school owl to send his letter. The other boys who didn't have actual letters to send turned to admire Harry's owl from a distance. Then the boys went back down into the castle and Eric offered to show Harry Gryffindor tower.

"It's a pity you weren't sorted into our house," he said, "I heard your parents were Gryffindor. I suppose it can't be helped though, and it could be worse. Imagine if you had been sorted into Slytherin!"

"Er," Harry said, "Isn't it close to curfew?" It had taken a long time to reach the owlery, after all, and then a bit more time talking at the top.

"You have half an hour at least," Eric insisted, "Plenty of time for a quick look. Real pity we can't sleep over in other houses, though, isn't it? Wouldn't it be great if you could stay?"

"It would be crowded," Ron answered, "Not that I don't mind you lot, but there is only five beds." Eric blinked, glancing towards Wayne and Justin. Obviously he hadn't actually been thinking about them when he made the invitation.

"Well anyway, there's time for a quick visit," he continued.

"No there isn't," Wayne answered, "And I don't think it's a good idea for us to be caught out after curfew on our first day."

"Well maybe just Harry…"Eric answered.

"Harry doesn't want to get in trouble either," Justin answered, taking Harry's hand to lead him away.

"He can speak for himself," Eric answered, "Tell them Harry, don't you want to come and see the house your parents were in."

"Er…not tonight," Harry answered, shifting nervously. He hated to contradict people or turn them down, especially when someone so obviously wanted to be his friend. Eric glared, not at Harry but at the other two Hufflepuff, before turning and stalking down the hall.

"I would like to visit sometime," Harry told Ron and Neville earnestly, "And sometime you could come to see Hufflepuff. It's really cozy."

"My Gran thought I'd be a Hufflepuff for sure," Neville said, "She'll be real glad I made it into Gryffindor." Then he turned slightly pink when he realized how that sounded. "My parents were in Gryffindor," he explained nervously, "I mean, there's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff…"

"Well, you can see what you're missing then, now that you're stuck in Gryffindor," Wayne said, giving Neville a friendly grin to show he was teasing. Neville nodded, looking slightly relieved.

"I'll see you later," Ron added, and then Ron and Neville went off towards their tower while the three Hufflepuff went towards their own rooms.

"Ron is alright," Justin said as they walked, "I wouldn't mind him or Neville eating with us sometime."

"I think you have a real fan with that Eric Otter, Harry," Wayne added, "Did you notice how he said your name after just about every sentence? Like he thought you might forget who you were." Harry shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. They had to ask some portraits for directions a couple of times as they didn't have their maps, but in the end they made it before curfew.

As Harry lay in bed that evening, he felt strange. He had survived his first real day in a magical school, made some new friends, and didn't get too hopelessly lost. At the same time, he didn't like how people kept staring at him and whispering. And he missed his home. It felt weird. He didn't really miss the Dursleys or the chores or the way he always had to work so hard to be accepted. But he missed his garden and he missed the feeling of knowing where he 

was and what he should be doing at all times. He understood how his home worked, he still hadn't quite gotten the hang of this new place. Feeling restless, he pulled out one of his books and read until his eyes felt too heavy to keep open. Then he slept.


	11. It's Magic!

Chapter 11

The second day started much better than the first. When the prefect poked his head in on the way to his breakfast, only Evan was still asleep, and even he woke up a second later after Wayne tried a spell to pour water over him. Wayne didn't quite manage it, creating bubbles instead for some reason, but the loud pop his wand made as they appeared did the trick. Prefect Percywell gave the boys a short nod before going on his way.

"Well thank goodness he doesn't seem the uptight type!" Ernie exclaimed in a disapproving tone toward Justin and Wayne, "We aren't supposed to do magic in between classes!" Justin and Wayne didn't seem to hear; they were too busy laughing as Evan pulled himself up from the tangle of blankets off the floor.

"But if we can't do magic outside of class, how can we practice?" Harry asked, watching his roommates' antic's nervously. He was already dressed and had one of his new wizard fantasy books open in his lap. In fact, he had woken up nearly an hour before the first of the other boys stirred. Ernie turned towards Harry with a slightly confused expression as he didn't know the answer. Justin jumped boisterously onto Harry's bed, throwing an arm around him.

"That's right, how are we to practice?" he demanded. Harry managed not to drop his book at Justin's sudden move. Ernie rolled his eyes at the two of them. Justin laughed again and moved away, getting his own books in anticipation of the day's classes.

"What did he do, inhale a bag of sugar when he got up?" Wayne asked as he walked past Harry's bed and on towards the bathroom. Harry shrugged, unsure how he was supposed to respond. He looked back towards his book and then marked his place, grabbing his own backpack just in time for Justin to come back and grab his arm, pulling him towards the door.

"Shouldn't we wait on the others?" Harry asked, glad he had already taken the time to get ready for the day. This time he had made sure to stick the map at the very top of his pack.

"Nah, we don't have to," Justin answered, "We only went together the first few days because this is all so new. We had to make sure we knew the way."

"This is only the second day," Ernie remarked, having left close behind them, "We're still in the first few days." Justin shrugged. He had finally let go of Harry's arm once he was sure he was following. The three came into the common room just as three of the first year girls came out of their tunnel.

"Lisa!" Justin cried, jumping towards them enthusiastically, "Megan! Other girl I've forgotten the name of!"

"I'm Hannah," the third girl answered, eying him nervously. The other two girls merely looked bemused.

"What's with him this morning?" Lisa asked.

"We don't know," Ernie answered, "He's been hopping around all morning."

"Wayne thinks sugar is involved," Harry added helpfully.

"No sugar," Justin answered, "It's just, I'm at a magical school learning to do real magic!" The others stared at him.

"We've been at a magical school learning magic," Ernie pointed out, "We learned magic all yesterday."

"Well, yeah, but...we're really learning magic!" Justin answered, and he turned and bounded eagerly towards the door, only stopping on the threshold when he saw the others hadn't followed.

"He's gone insane," Hannah said in an awed, serious tone, her eyes wide. Harry shrugged and went after him, Lisa a step behind him. Ernie and Hannah hesitated to follow too closely. At breakfast, Justin finally slowed down so that he could eat. Wayne joined them a few minutes later and the final two girls showed up a few minutes after that. Harry vaguely remembered their names as Susan and Raven. Evan came in at a run just in time to grab some toast before a prefect began calling for the first years. It wasn't George Percywell this time, it was a girl Harry didn't recognize. She led them out to the greenhouses where the bushy haired Gryffindor was already waiting on the doors to open. She was standing alone, studying their Herbology textbook.

"A bit keen on studying, isn't she?" Wayne whispered, softly so she wouldn't hear. Unfortunately Megan did, as she was standing right behind him, and she whapped him lightly on the head with her own opened text.

"But she's studying magic!" Justin whispered back gleefully, not noticing the person he was whispering to had stumbled off to the side.

"Oh no, he's at it again!" Ernie cried, watching Justin waving his own book around excitedly, as though it might explode at any second with its wonders of magic. Harry edged around him and walked over to Granger.

"I have my schedule, if you still want to know the time of the Culture classes," he said once she looked up from her book, "I don't know if you ever got it." She looked somewhat startled.

"Oh, no, it sort of slipped my mind when I was talking with...Evan, isn't it?" she answered, glancing over Harry's shoulder.

"Evan Branstone," Evan answered, "And you're Hermione Ranger. Your parents cut up people's teeth with a drill."

"They're dentists," Hermione said quickly to the rather shocked expressions she was getting, "And it's Granger." Then Harry pulled out the parchment Professor Sprout had given them so Hermione could copy it. After that they all stood a bit awkwardly while the rest of the Gryffindors slowly arrived. Harry smiled towards Ron and Neville when they approached. Then Eric Otter came pushing his way towards their group.

"Hey, Harry!" he cried "How's Hedwig, then?"

"Er, alright," Harry answered, trying not to look too much like he was hiding behind Hermione and Evan, even though he was.

"Is that Ron, then?" Lisa asked him, "I thought you said he was a red head." Eric stuttered a bit while Justin and Wayne snickered.

"Ron is," Harry answered, "A redhead I mean. I mean, this is...um...he's from Switzerland."

"Eric Otter!" Eric cried, somehow managing to sound hurt and enthusiastic at the same time.

"I knew that," Harry hastened to say, and he had, it just had all gotten mixed up in his mind. He wasn't used to introducing people, or explaining things, or actually speaking to anyone. No one had ever wanted to speak to him before. The Dursleys generally spoke at him.

"Otter?" Evan asked, "There's some Otters that live near us. Any relation, do you think?" And thankfully Evan managed to draw Eric away into a conversation and Harry slid out from behind Hermione. Somehow he found himself in the middle of the girls.

"Where do you think Professor Sprout is?" Hannah asked, "It's nearly time for class." She sounded nervous, as though the teacher's absence was a sign of something sinister going on.

"She's your head of house, isn't she?" Hermione asked, "What's she like?"

"She seems nice enough," Lisa answered her, "My brother says she likes to keep an eye on us, not like the other house heads. And not in the strict, I'm watching you way, like I hear Professor Snape watches the Slytherins."

"We haven't had him yet, have we?" one of the girls Harry had hardly seen asked, though he thought she was called Raven.

"He teaches potions," Megan answered while half of them were still pulling out their schedules to find his name, "He is rather strict, I hear."

"We already had that class yesterday," Hermione remarked, "Or we were meant to. Something weird came up, though, and he wasn't there. There was a note on the door that told us to return to our common rooms and read through the first chapter." Then at last Professor Sprout arrived, bustling them all into the greenhouse.

Of all his classes he had had so far, Harry thought he liked Herbology the best. It reminded him of the garden back home, except the plants were more exotic and tended to be more responsive. This interest didn't seem to be shared by many people, however. After the first quick tour of the greenhouse half the class was falling asleep. Of course, this could just as well have been because they weren't morning people. On the other hand, Neville looked just as enraptured at the array of potted plants their professor was showing them. It turned out he had also left a garden at home. It was one of the few outdoor activities his grandmother allowed him to do unsupervised.

After Herbology was they once again had Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws. By the time class was over, the same headache had returned throbbing just over Harry's eyes. Luckily, lunch came after that and he had time to lay his head down for a bit until the throbbing went away. Justin and Wayne suggested that he go to see the nurse, but Harry felt better almost as soon as he left the room. After lunch was the Astronomy Theory, a class that was to be supplemented by a practical lesson that night. Apparently the professor kept extremely odd sleeping hours to make up for giving lessons half the night. The Theory was held in a large lecture hall and Harry's entire year attended. For the practical, they were meeting by house. Harry found Astronomy even duller than History of Magic, but Justin couldn't stop giggling about the sort of things wizards learned, and whispering what he would probably be taking if he were off at Eton.

They had one hour of break after that, during which everyone began to swap horror stories they had heard from the upper years or other houses about Potions. Everyone was agreed that after Gryffindor, Professor Snape hated Hufflepuffs the most, and there was nothing he loved better than making them cry. According to Lisa's older brother, Snape once had a Hufflepuff in detention who was never heard from again. But there was supposedly a new ingredient listed in the ingredients cabinet that was that student's name. They were told to look for it when they went there.

"Come on," Justin said, "Don't you think it will be brilliant, sitting over boiling cauldrons? I can't believe we really do that!" Everyone else looked nervous and apprehensive when Prefect Percywell arrived. In fact, half of them jumped when he announced his presence.

"Don't you worry," the prefect said, "As long as you listen to what he says and follow the directions, you'll be fine. Just don't goof off in his class, or your cauldron might explode." And with those parting words he left them at the door amidst cold stone and torchlight. Hannah swore she saw a bat swoop by in the shadows. The door opened.

Author's note: I know, according to the books that Gryffindor's first Potions class was on Friday. But when I made up a schedule for Hufflepuff (Rowling never really does give exact schedules of Gryffindor, let alone Hufflepuff), it didn't make sense to use what little Rowling did give us as it somewhat clashed with my set up (I assumed the students would have Potions more than once a week...and for that to happen Gryffindor has to have it on another day besides a Friday). So I sort of kept it cannon by canceling their class (it works with the plot as well...as will be revealed...eventually.)

Also...I got a helpful review pointing out Harry has two first DADA classes. It wasn't a mistake that he had a dada class then (as I said, I created a weekly schedule for Harry to follow), but I shouldn't have written it like it was his first one. Oops. I've fixed that now. And thanks for everyone who reviewed the story!


	12. Double Potions

Chapter 12

Double Potions

The Hufflepuffs shuffled nervously into the classroom, everyone doing their best to sit in the back. The Ravenclaws, by contrast, seemed intent on sitting towards the front of the room, despite nervous expressions. Harry sat next to Justin, a bit further up than he would have liked both because Justin seemed to be making a point about not being afraid and because almost everyone else pushed past him in an effort to get the best seats. The dreaded professor was not there yet and most of the students started whispering nervously to their partners while messing around with their new Potions supplies.

"I don't think we're supposed to do that yet," Harry whispered helpfully when Justin looked like he was trying to work the gas fire on which the cauldron stand was set. Surprisingly, the fire wasn't made by magic. In fact, it looked positively Muggle, assuming that Muggles would have a set up to provide flames beneath a cauldron stand. His own nervousness led him to do what half the Ravenclaws had already done; pull out his Potion book and begin to read through the introduction. The entire first page was devoted to fire safety, mentioning that students would not be expected to magically control fire until much later. That would explain the gas. Suddenly, the professor was sweeping into the room, shutting off Justin's attempts at starting his fire with a flick of his wrist and drawing immediate attention.

He reminded Harry of McGonagall, in manner if not in looks. He looked terrifying, like a vampire from one of Dudley's hidden films, dark and dangerous. His eyes swept over the class, capturing attention and silencing whispers with only a glance. His eyes paused a short moment on Harry's, dark and empty and gleaming in the torchlight. They went on.

"A point from Hufflepuff," he began, his voice low but resonating well throughout the room, "For playing with fire. I see that again and you will be gone from this classroom." His eyes only flickered momentarily towards Justin, pausing on Harry once more. Then he ran swiftly through his scroll of names. When he got to Harry's name he paused only slightly, drawing his name out with a cruel looking smirk. "Harry Dursley." Harry answered present, surprised enough to finally hear his name said right that he smiled slightly in spite of himself. The professor gave him an odd, unreadable look before turning his eyes over the rest of the students, silencing the whispers that had erupted among the Ravenclaws at Harry's name. He finished with roll.

The speech that followed rolled off his tongue in a low, almost hypnotic tone that filled the room despite being little more than a whisper. The Ravenclaws began taking notes at once as he instructed them in the subtle art that was potion making, despite the fact that he hadn't actually told them anything of any particular relevance. Suddenly, right after practically calling the entire class dunderheads, he turned to face Harry.

"Dursley," he barked sharply, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry jumped and then stared at him blankly. Looking around he was slightly relieved to see that even the Ravenclaws mostly didn't seem to know what he was talking about, though one of the boys tried mouthing something to him behind the professor's back. Professor Snape lifted an eyebrow, waiting to hear Harry's answer. Now the boy was clutching his neck, miming being choked to death it seemed.

"Sorry," Harry said, not beginning to understand, "I don't know, sir." Professor Snape shook his head as his lips twisted into a sneer. If he noticed the Ravenclaw trying to mime the answer he gave no notice of it.

"Let's try again, Dursley," he said, "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Harry tried to think if he had ever even heard that word before; wasn't that some kind of market or something? The Ravenclaw was making pig faces at him; Harry wasn't sure if that was meant to help or if the boy was simply laughing at him, but either way it wasn't helping.

"I don't know, sir," Harry repeated again. There was that same look on Professor Snape's face, a mixture of glee at his ignorance and disappointment. Harry really didn't know what to make of it. Had he done something to make the professor mad? Perhaps he thought Harry had been responsible for turning on the gas at the beginning of class?

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming to class, Dursley?" he asked, the 'Dursley' rolling off his tongue like something particularly savory. It was as though he was taking special delight in calling Harry by his own name. Harry glanced down at his still open text book. He had glanced through it before class, but he hadn't really bothered to read it. None of the other professors had seemed to expect them to have their books memorized. "Tell me this, then," Professor Snape continued, "What is the difference between gold and pewter cauldrons." He smirked down at the boy, and even the Ravenclaw looked a bit lost. Harry wasn't sure if that was because the boy didn't know or if he just couldn't figure out how to mime that one. Harry swallowed, then felt his eyes widen. Finally, hesitantly, he tried to answer.

"Gold is purer but too soft to be used as a common cauldron because it reacts strongly with elemental ingredients," Harry said slowly, twisting his face up as he tried to remember exactly what the shopkeeper had said, all those weeks ago in Diagon Alley, "And pewter is mostly tin, and, er, it is good for simple, every day use but not the more finicky potion?" And when the professor continued to stare at him, neither confirming nor denying his answer, Harry added, "And gold costs more?" At that, the professor's look of utter disdain returned.

"Passable," he said at last, "That might have gotten you a D if you gave me that in an essay, instead of the T your first two answers deserved. I expect everyone to keep up in their readings before we come to class." The last was said to the class at large before he turned suddenly to face the Ravenclaw boy. "Two points from Ravenclaw," he announced, not even bothering to cite the crime, "Do that again and it will be detention." The boy gulped, sliding down in his seat. Then the professor told them the correct answers to everything Harry had missed, including a good deal more on the properties of cauldrons. Harry scribbled away on his parchment as best as he could manage, still being new to writing with a quill, just glad that the attention was off of him. In fact, Professor Snape seemed to completely ignore him for the rest of the class.

They didn't start a potion that class period, going over the first chapter in detail instead, particularly the parts on safety. Professor Snape kept looking at Justin while he spoke about the gas fire, before going on to knives and mentioning, briefly, the different ways to slice up ingredients. Justin, surprisingly, didn't seem nearly as keen on Potions as he had at the beginning of class. They went over a potion on curing boils in theory, but they wouldn't be allowed to actually make it until their next class. Instead, Professor Snape instructed them to bring their cauldrons to a boil and then to slice up carrots, grind garlic into a powder, and then add the two ingredients at the same time only after the cauldron was taken from the heat. The lesson ended in showing the proper way to fill a vial and stopper it up. The Ravenclaws looked a bit put out in being made to have a cooking lesson in their first class while the Hufflepuffs simply looked confused. Surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs were, in general, better at following the simple directions even if half of them acted a bit afraid of the boiling water.

The class ended with the professor banishing their concoctions, explaining exactly what standards of clean up he expected them to follow at the end of every practical, and then dismissing them with a request for two feet of parchment over proper preparation and clean up procedure to be turned in next class and instructions to read before coming in or to not bother coming at all. Everyone practically ran from the class, or would have if they weren't so afraid of losing points for running in the hall. The prefect wasn't there to guide them this time, but they were able to follow their maps easily to their common room before heading off to dinner.

Dinner was filled with conversation about the class, the professor, how stupid Justin was at the beginning of class, and how much the professor must hate Harry. The only really good thing anyone had to say about the class was that at least now they could be certain that Snape wasn't a vampire.

"They can't go near the stuff," Evan insisted with some authority, despite the fact that Megan had skimmed through the chapter on vampires in the DADA book and it only said they were allergic to garlic. And it wasn't like their professor had actually drunken the stuff. He hadn't even crushed it himself, just told them how to do it.

"And what was with that showoff making faces?" Wayne asked, frowning slightly with disapproval.

"I almost died, trying not to laugh," Justin added, "Especially with the bat looming over us looking all stern, and there he was behind him!"

"He was trying to help," Harry pointed out to Wayne, "I just didn't get it." In fact, except for the drilling at the beginning of class, Harry had enjoyed Potions. It reminded him of cooking. In an odd way, Professor Snape even reminded him of his aunt, the way she would skulk around in the background, ready to jump on him if he did something wrong. He was looking forward to trying a real potion.

"Don't forget, the Wizard Culture classes are tonight," Evan reminded them. They had just finished eating, in fact, when Hermione wandered over, obviously anxious about not missing the class. Prefect Percywell also stopped by, not to remind them about the culture classes but to remind them they had astronomy that night at 12:30.

"Your first class tomorrow is at ten instead of nine," he added, "And you'll be able to eat breakfast an hour later than it usually closes. So you won't miss out too much on sleep."

"What did you think of Potions, Harry?" Lisa asked as they got ready to go to the Culture class, "He really seemed to hate you." Harry shrugged.

"At least he called me Dursley," he answered, though he did wish the professor could do it without a sneer.


	13. Culture and Class

Chapter 13

Culture and Class

The Muggle Studies classroom was easy to find. It was the only classroom in the entire school that had a football poster tacked to its door. Even more noteworthy, none of the players in the poster were moving.

All ten Hufflepuff first years ended up coming, though only a few of them were pure Muggleborn. That might have had something to do with the way Evan herded them along, going on about the virtues of their new culture. It wasn't until he got them to the door and Lisa asked him if he felt the need to join the class, or if he intended to teach it, that he left them alone and returned to their common room. The nine remaining students entered the room.

The room was a weird mixture between a classroom and a Muggle house. There were desks but they were stacked up in a pile in the back and were generally ignored in favor of couches and comfy chairs. One wall was filled with electronic gadgets, including a television and a stack of videos. Another was covered in posters, books, and, for some reason, plugs. The third wall had a small kitchen set up in the corner and still more books. Harry sat down on a couch between Justin and Wayne. Ernie chose a chair and the girls all spread themselves wherever they wished, Lisa joining the boys on the couch by sliding down one of the arms and forcing Justin to either slide over or be sat on. For the moment, they had the room to themselves.

A few Ravenclaws joined them a few minutes later. There were no Slytherins at all, and Hermione was the only Gryffindor. Then a couple of upperclassmen came in and called for attention.

"Welcome to Wizard Culture," one of them called as she stepped in front of them all, standing just in front of the television, "I'm Shannon Abbey, Hufflepuff, and this is Luke Zederman, Ravenclaw. We'll be your guides this year. Now, before we begin let me just explain a bit about what this class is. We are here to help Muggleborn learn about their Wizard heritage, or anyone who wishes to know more about their culture. This is classified as a club, so you won't be graded or get in trouble if you stop attending. I should warn you, though, if you are failing any classes you won't be allowed to participate in clubs, so do try and keep your grades up."

"Let's just start with some questions and answers," the person called Luke said, stepping up next to Shannon Abbey, "Does anyone have questions about what they have seen so far, that they don't understand?" Predictably, Hermione's hand shot up.

"How do electronics work in here?" she asked curiously, her eyes darting towards the television and other range of electronic gadgets, "I read magic interferes with electricity." The question seemed to thrown their culture guides, who were probably expecting something more along the lines of 'wow, the pictures move', or 'what is with the ghosts'.

"I believe these particular gadgets are designed to mimic the effects of electricity," Shannon answered at last, before looking around for more questions. Hermione's hand shot up again. After looking in vain for other hands, Luke called upon her.

"One of my classmates told me about familiar resonance as the reason why we use quills instead of pens," she said, "And I was reading about familial resonance and wondered if using a quill from your familiar would affect the familiar resonance or be coincidental." The blank stares went on longer this time.

"Ah," Luke said at last, "I see you have done some reading. That's good. Reading is a good way to aid your understanding in wizard culture."

"Witches and wizards like to use quills for several reasons," Shannon said in a lecturing tone, latching onto the one part of the sentence that she understood, "You will find many tools we use seem 'old fashioned' to Muggle tastes. This is because we come from an old tradition, old but grand. Many things we use may seem a bit odd at first, but you will soon grow used to it. Quills are one of those things. But we understand that a lot of you aren't used to quills, so for our first lesson, we thought it might be a good idea to learn." Hermione stared back at them dubiously, but she didn't raise her hand again.

Then they were handed scrolls and small pamphlets. The scrolls contained a list of what the club planned to cover over the course of the year. The pamphlet was a small booklet with colorful pictures. The cover proclaimed 'Welcome to the World of Wizards'. A little boy and girl wearing robes and pointy hats waved to them, imploring them to look inside. The overall tone was simplistic to the point of being babyish. Most of them set their booklets aside immediately, though Hermione made the effort of reading the first few pages before their club leaders called them all over to the kitchenette table where a pile of quills and ink bottles had been set up.

The next half hour consisted of learning how to cut a quill's tip, dip it in ink, and write with it on a piece of parchment. Harry had already learned the basics in the shop, but he still wasn't very practiced at it. Hermione had obviously spent half her summer perfecting writing, but she dutifully filled out the learner sheet before returning to the booklet. From the way she kept wrinkling her nose, it was probably not a very good read. When the club was finally declared complete, half the booklets were left behind on the couches or floor.

"Honestly," Hermione said as they walked, still holding the booklet open, "They might as well have said we use quills because that's what we've always done and we're afraid of change."

"Well, we are living in a castle," Justin pointed out. He still had his booklet. He had used their practice time to dutifully practice using his quill to draw little horns and mustaches on the boy and girl featured throughout the booklet. Surprisingly, the pictures didn't seem adverse to that. The boy kept twirling his mustache on the cover and the girl was practicing her evil eye. Hermione made a sound like a growl at Justin's answer.

"But that isn't why we use quills at all!" she cried, sounding rather frustrated, "If we only lived by old ways because we didn't like change, there wouldn't be any modern plumbing in this school!"

"Then why do we use quills?" Harry asked, walking between them.

"Oh, do tell," an unexpected voice drawled as they walked around a corner, "The little Muggle witch is going to tell us all about our culture." Draco Malfoy, unexpectedly free from his two bodyguards was leaning against a wall. He wasn't alone, however; another boy and girl from Slytherin were with him. They all three held identical sneers.

Hermione faltered in her explanation before the unexpected audience, but determined to show she knew what she was talking about, she pressed on.

"You know how I said electronics don't work well?" she asked, directing her question towards Harry and Justin. Somehow, the three of them had fallen behind the rest of their group and were now alone except for the Slytherins. Harry nodded, his eyes on the blond boy and his two companions. They made him nervous. "Well, I didn't just mean electricity," she said, "I think it has to do with how objects are manufactured. Something made by a normal, non-magic machine is missing the familiar resonance which imbues the purpose behind the mechanics. And magic energy not only disrupts electronic fields, it resonates with, well, the essence of an object. And if something was made by a machine, it only remembers what it used to be. That's why pens don't work well; their essence doesn't resonate with magic. And anything that requires written word will be weak if you use a factory pen." Malfoy and his friends continued to sneer at them and Harry and Justin continued to stare at her blankly. She sighed.

"Pens don't work well because it remembers being something other than a plastic container or a dye. And magic enhances these 'other' properties. And writing with a pen would weaken the written word itself of its magical properties." They continued to stare at her blankly.

"Oh please," Malfoy said at last, unable to stand a moment more of her attempts to explain, "We use quills because jinxes and spells slide off Muggle pens, and because the stupid things stop working too fast. And because quills are more stylish. Muggles just don't like them because they actually take skill to use."

"Hey, what is this thing?" the boy at Malfoy's side suddenly demanded, bending over to take something off the floor. It was a dropped booklet, probably from someone who had already come down the hall because all three of them still had theirs. The boy looked at it with disgust before handing it over to the girl. She glanced through it and began to laugh.

"Is this what they're teaching you?" she asked between gasping for breath and peals of laughter, "Just look, Drakey, no wonder Muggleborn are always morons!"

"Don't call me that," Malfoy snapped in response, snatching it from her to glance at it with a sneer. Harry, Justin, and Hermione glared towards the Slytherins with equal distaste. Malfoy ignored their looks as well as his friend's laughter to glance through the book.

"Is this what they're teaching you?" he asked, part in disgust part in real horror, "There's nothing in here about family names or hierarchy! This just says a bunch of rubbish about how to use a quill or post a letter!"

"What more is there to learn?" Justin asked flippantly, annoyed with the Slytherins' disdain. Just because they agreed was no reason for the Slytherins to make fun of their class. Malfoy just stared at him, his horror evident.

"Come on, Drakey, they're just Muggle brats," the boy said, stretching the hated nickname though his sneer was for the other three, "Who cares if they understand our culture, we don't need them anyway."

"But Potter isn't!" Malfoy cried, "And some of them are halfblood, at least! They should know something! I'm talking to my father about this." And that said, he spun around, still clutching the booklet so hard his knuckles were white as he stalked away. His friends hesitated to follow, until they suddenly realized that, without Malfoy there, they were now outnumbered. Finally they turned to follow. Hermione, Harry, and Justin stood where they had been left for a long moment.

"Well," Justin said at last, "That was unexpected." Then Hermione went back to her tower, still grumbling about the Culture class, and the boys returned to their own dorm to prepare for Astronomy.


	14. Fight Fight Fight

Chapter 14

Astronomy practical was much more interesting than the bookwork had been. Most of the students were excited to be up so late. Justin, predictably, was just as excited that they were studying astronomy. It didn't help that he had eaten a sugar quill before class under the theory that it would help him stay up late.

"Are you supposed to eat them, or just suck on them?" Wayne asked doubtfully, after Justin gave him a grin that was stained with ink.

"Maybe he should have only eaten the feather end," Harry suggested, "Or not used it to write with first." Then the professor began to show them how to use their telescope and directed them to open the star charts she had given them during their earlier theory class. The view of the stars from the tower was amazing and Harry wondered if they could come up here sometime just for stargazing, but they were told just before they left that it was forbidden to come without a professor.

"Probably afraid we'll fall off or something," Justin mumbled.

"Or jump," Megan suggested from behind him, and Justin gave her a weird look.

The next morning started later in the day than they were used to, but not nearly late enough for most of them. Percywell stopped by the boy's dorm in-between his own classes to remind them to go to breakfast. The girls were even later, running in at 9:40 and only given five minutes to grab some food before it vanished. Apparently Shannon hadn't come by to wake them.

"Oh well," Lisa muttered as she watched the last of her breakfast disappear, "Lunch is in an hour or so." And they all went to Charms with Gryffindor. Harry managed to get a seat between Ron and Justin, despite the way that Eric Otter kept trying to catch his eye. Harry noticed that Hermione was sitting next to Megan again, and wondered if she didn't have any friends in her own house or if those two were the only ones willing to sit up at the very front of the class. Ron saw Harry staring towards her and muttered, 'Know it all.' Harry frowned, but at that moment class began.

After all the classes they had the day before, Wednesday felt very short. After Charms was lunch, just as Lisa had said, and then most of the Hufflepuffs caught up on their sleep during the next class (History of Magic). Harry managed to stay awake, but not so much from listening to the professor as from reading his textbook. Then came their final class; double Transfiguration. Harry was particularly pleased when she called roll with 'Dursley' instead of 'Potter'. Some of the Slytherins snickered at that and Malfoy actually looked offended, probably that he had given up his wizard family name for a Muggle's.

That evening at dinner Harry sat at Hufflepuff, but Ron wandered over while they were eating, led by a very insistent Eric Otter (though he tried afterwards to pretend it was a whim). Eric managed to shoulder his way in next to Harry, leaving Ron to sit two seats over next to some third years. He didn't look to put out as he immediately start loading up on dessert.

"Heya, Harry," Eric said, not seeming to notice Justin's annoyance (he had taken his seat) or Harry's bewilderment, "Think you'll have time to swing by Gryffindor before curfew?"

"Er…" Harry answered intelligently, his eyes sliding past Eric's head to where Justin was frantically shaking his head before making silent but vigorous gagging motions. "Sorry," Harry managed to say, "I'm a bit tired. We had astronomy last night."

"Oh what a shame," Justin declared before Eric could answer, and he nearly managed to keep the humor out of his voice that was shining in his eyes, "I was looking forward to that trek up all those stairs. But Harry's right, we are all a bit knackered."

"Nobody asked you," Eric snapped, before backpedaling a bit as he realized how that might have sounded, "I mean…you're welcome, of course…"

"But I'm not _the_ Harry Potter, is that it?" Justin snapped right back, all humor gone now. Harry felt his face going red and slunk a bit in his seat but the two boys weren't even looking at him anymore. They had twisted awkwardly in their seats to glare at each other, despite the close quarters.

"Well, just because you're both in Hufflepuff isn't any reason for you to speak for him. Harry Potter can choose his friends for himself, and they don't have to be from his house. That's all I'm saying."

"Harry Potter," Justin declared with a bit of a laugh, "If you were his friend, you'd know he's Harry Dursley. He doesn't like you lot gawking at him, and he talks plenty to other houses. Why do you think we came over to your table at all?"

"Because he knows that the sorting hat messed up somehow!" Eric answered defiantly, "He should have been in Gryffindor; everyone knows that. His parents were. If you were a proper wizard, you'd know it too.

"Proper wizard?!" Justin cried in outrage, his fists clinching, "You're as bad as Malfoy!"

"You take that back!" Eric exclaimed, also clinching his fist. Neither could say then how it started or who was first, but both boys had grabbed hold of each other and were shoving roughly, causing an outcry from everyone around. Harry found himself squished up against Wayne and the next moment he slid off his seat and ducked under the table, a sick feeling in his stomach that there was going to be a fight.

"Hey!" shouts came up around them, and "knock it off!" and, in a few instances, "Fight!" Just as it was looking to degenerate further, a low but carrying voice hissed, "What is going on here." Everyone except for Justin and Eric silenced at once and edged away from the scuffle. Wayne managed to make himself look utterly innocent, despite the fact that he had been making a move towards grabbing Eric from behind only seconds before, and Lisa turned her wand movement into a move to use it to scratch her ear. It sparked and she squeaked, but the owner of the voice only gave her a cursory glance of loathing and ignored Wayne completely. The two boys in question were slightly slower on the uptake but they quickly stilled when a viselike grip pulled them each over their bench to their feet by the backs of their robes. Finding themselves in the unexpected company of Professor Snape had an effect like ice water in dowsing their anger.

"He started it!" Eric Otter exclaimed impetuously before quickly quailing under the Look Snape gave him, at which he gave a slight squeak and looked very much as though he'd like to faint.

"Fighting, for any reason, is against the rules," Snape said derisively, "Expulsion is the usual punishment." Both boys paled slightly, despite being almost certain that they couldn't _really_ be expelled for shoving. "Unfortunately," Snape continued once he was sure he had their complete attention, and in fact the silent attendance of every student within a radius of ten feet and murmured observation further still, "That will be up to your head of house. Now…who wants to tell me what this was all about before I leave you to her mercies? Now doubt some puerile posturing is involved?"

Despite his condescending and slightly impatient tone, Snape actually waited for an answer which neither boy looked inclined to give. Finally, Eric Otter proved he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing by blurting out, "It's Harry Potter! _He_ doesn't want him to have other friends."

"I told you it's Harry Dursley," Justin growled back, "And he can choose his own friends!"

"Enough!" Snape growled when it looked as though Eric was going to go off again, "And where is our celebrity hiding? What does he say?" Everyone turned to where Harry had been sitting and saw his place empty. Harry had yet to come up from under the table. He hoped then that no one would realize he was there but Snape soon but an end to that dream.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Dursley, an engraved invitation? Get up here!" Snape snapped. Harry crawled up, staring at his toes and wishing he were invisible. His face felt odd, pale and heated at once. Snape looked him up and down silently, his expression unreadable. Finally he snapped, "Well, come on then," before turning around abruptly and striding from the hall, dragging Justin and Eric with him with Harry trotting to keep up behind.


	15. Snape's Concern

Chapter 15

They didn't go far, only to the nearest empty classroom.

"Sit," Snape growled, releasing the two boys to take the closest seats. Unsure if he was meant to be included as well, Harry slowly sat next to Justin. Snape loomed. Before long, McGonagall came gliding into the room, followed by a concerned looking Sprout. Harry felt slightly better with them there; Snape seemed less dangerous somehow that way.

"What is this all about, Severus?" Sprout asked, eyes on the boys, "Someone said something about fighting?"

"Mr. Otter and Finch-Fletchley were fighting," Snape answered, "Mr. Dursley was hiding under the table. I thought I better take him as well before he fainted." At that Harry flushed red and both Eric and Justin glared at the professor. Even more embarrassing, Sprout seemed to take Snape at his word as she turned her eyes on Harry while radiating concern.

"Oh dear," she said, putting her hand on Harry's burning forehead, "Do you think he should be taken to see Pomfrey? He feels a bit warm." If anything, this made Harry's face grow even hotter. He could just see, through the gap in Sprout's arm, where Snape stood with an amused smirk. He didn't dare look at Justin or Eric, and they for their part made no remark towards him.

"If you feel the need," McGonagall mentioned, "I'm sure Severus and I can handle the two miscreants?"

"Perhaps," Sprout answered, sounding torn as she looked at the other Hufflepuff. Justin looked somewhat pale in contrast to Harry's burning face, his eyes carefully studying the floor, but neither of the boys looked hurt by their brief scuffle. Then she looked back at Harry. Finally, she said, "Perhaps I'd better. I'll leave them to your judgment. Do you think you can stand, dear?"

"Yes!" Harry answered quickly, jumping to his feat, and unfortunately stumbling slightly as he did. It had more to do with his unfamiliar new robe and less to do with the shaky feeling in his legs, but Sprout still seemed quite concerned. Harry meant to say something about not needing to see this Pomfrey, who he suspected to be the nurse, but being surrounded by three towering adults got the words tangled on his tongue, and before he could untangle it his head of house was already sweeping him out the door.

"Don't worry," McGonagall said as they left, "I'll make sure Severus keeps things within reason." Then the door was shut and Sprout took his hand, leading him on in a way that reminded him of a mother leading a toddler. It confused him, more than anything, though it was a bit embarrassing as well. It didn't help that the halls weren't completely empty, and they got quite a few glances. Finally, they reached a large room filled with beds and curtains. Sprout stopped by one of the beds and before Harry realized what she intended, she had picked him up and sat him down on the edge.

"What have we now?" a woman in white attire asked, stepping quickly out of the door at the end of the room, "Another stomachache?"

"I'm not really sure," Sprout answered, "Severus said the boy nearly fainted when his friends got in a bit of a scuffle. Go on, Harry, this is Madam Pomfrey. Tell her how you feel."

"I'm fine," Harry answered quickly, though in truth by that point he was feeling a bit ill. He hoped they wouldn't call his aunt and uncle over this; they hated to be bothered by school nurses over him. Both of them ignored his words, Pomfrey muttering something about children with weak constitutions as she felt around Harry's throat. She did pause for a moment though, turning to look at Sprout.

"_Severus_ said? He was concerned?"

"He didn't sound concerned," Sprout answered, "But I don't think he'd have taken him from dinner for no reason. You know Severus."

"Yes," Pomfrey answered, "I do." And took a small book from her robes and tapped it with her want, muttering "Harry Potter". Then she opened it, looked at the contents, and frowned.

"I don't seem to have your records," she said to Harry, "Did your guardians send anything with you?"

"Er…" Harry answered, staring at her blankly. The Dursleys had avoided anything to do with his new school and no mention of medical records was ever made.

"Try Harry Dursley," Sprout suggested, "He was adopted by his aunt and uncle." Pomfrey performed the same actions with his correct name, but quickly shook her head again.

"Still nothing. Did you get a check up with a healer? I can get that forwarded at least."

"Is that like a doctor?" Harry asked, his anxiety beginning to grow. Could you get kicked out of school for not having medical records? Pomfrey shook her head over him, before waving her want, this time over him. He felt a strange tingling sensation starting at the top of his head and going down him to his toes. While Pomfrey looked over her book again, occasionally pausing to hold her wand over different parts of his body, Sprout sat down on the bed next to him.

"A bit like a doctor, exactly," she told him, "All students are supposed to have a check up before they come."

"Do you have to leave school if you don't?" Harry asked quickly, his stomach churning. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts. Magical school aside, it was nice having friends. At least it was nice; it suddenly occurred to him to wonder if Justin would still want to be friends after getting in trouble over him. And what would everyone think now, knowing that he had hidden under a table and gotten sent to the nurse's office over nothing? Still, it would be better to face that than be sent home to the Dursleys. His aunt would purse her lips and give him that scornful, disappointed look she always gave him when he messed things up. His uncle would either be furious to be imposed upon, or gleeful that his nephew wasn't going to be a freak wizard after all. But before he could worry further, Sprout was already answering in the negative.

"No, of course not. It just means we need to make an appointment soon. Don't worry about it."

Harry worried anyway. He worried about them contacting the Dursleys and being sent home; he worried about what was happening to Justin, and even a bit about Eric, especially since the fight was mostly his fault. He worried about what everyone would think about him now; probably that he was a baby who hid under tables and fainted. And he worried when Pomfrey made him lie in the bed while she took Sprout into the other room to talk. She did leave him a tray of food, someone remembering that his dinner had been interrupted, but he was far too worried to do more than pick at it.

Closed door talks about him were never a good thing.

Author's Note: first of all, really sorry about the delay. And really really sorry, but no promises for a quick update later; my current obsession remains with Sherlock Holmes, though I will try to be better at updating all my WIP's. It doesn't help that I have the plots to my psych and Sherlock holmes stories pretty much worked out while this one seems to jump wherever the characters decide to drag me…well, I'll get back to it properly. Eventually.


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